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 Senegal and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Lille and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Toasters to the dance 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 Scratch Acid. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Nirvana,
Y Pants,
Chris Corsano,
Rakim,
Icehouse,
The Golliwogs,
Donny Hathaway,
Throbbing Gristle,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ice-T,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Blues Magoos,
Gang Starr,
The Dirtbombs,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mission of Burma,
Steve Hackett,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
T.S.O.L.,
Robert Wyatt,
Drexciya,
Boredoms,
Sister Nancy,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Tim Buckley,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Jeru the Damaja,
Joy Division,
the Bar-Kays,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Cybotron,
Pere Ubu,
Eurythmics,
Dennis Brown,
Faust,
Dorothy Ashby,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Fania All-Stars,
Mad Mike,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gichy Dan,
Hasil Adkins,
Nas,
The Moleskins,
New Age Steppers,
Joensuu 1685,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lungfish,
Albert Ayler,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tres Demented,
Fear,
Deepchord,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Amon Düül,
Al Stewart,
The Sound,
Gang Green,
Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket, Morten Harket.
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.