Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Mongolia and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Camouflage to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Victims,
Subhumans,
Duran Duran,
Bobby Sherman,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Pulsallama,
the Fania All-Stars,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Invisible,
Kaleidoscope,
Depeche Mode,
Rod Modell,
Vladislav Delay,
Hot Snakes,
New Order,
Young Marble Giants,
Colin Newman,
Alison Limerick,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bluetip,
Darondo,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Golliwogs,
David Axelrod,
Isaac Hayes,
Schoolly D,
The Moody Blues,
Eve St. Jones,
Nils Olav,
The Beau Brummels,
The Divine Comedy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Reuben Wilson,
PIL,
Black Sheep,
Harpers Bizarre,
UT,
Second Layer,
Bob Dylan,
Marc Almond,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Jawbox,
Siglo XX,
Barry Ungar,
Boredoms,
Bronski Beat,
Alton Ellis,
Ossler,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lakeside,
The Blackbyrds,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ohio Players,
Outsiders,
Little Man,
Masters at Work,
Faraquet,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Susan Cadogan,
Sister Nancy,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.