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 Serbia and from Hong Kong.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Parry Music to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Chris Corsano tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Real Kids,
Sexual Harrassment,
Severed Heads,
Leonard Cohen,
Ronan,
Radio Birdman,
The Vogues,
Joensuu 1685,
Absolute Body Control,
Thee Headcoats,
Bob Dylan,
Banda Bassotti,
Connie Case,
Flamin' Groovies,
Robert Görl,
Stiv Bators,
Minnie Riperton,
Spoonie Gee,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Slits,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Shadows of Knight,
Pole,
The Trojans,
Ludus,
Wings,
Liliput,
Scrapy,
CMW,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tears for Fears,
The Five Americans,
The Mummies,
Brothers Johnson,
Sonny Sharrock,
Stereo Dub,
Gong,
Underground Resistance,
Roxette,
Mantronix,
Sugar Minott,
Country Teasers,
Eddi Front,
Mission of Burma,
E-Dancer,
EPMD,
The Names,
The Electric Prunes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The New Christs,
Black Flag,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Desert Stars,
Hardrive,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Quadrant,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Brand Nubian,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.