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 Vanuatu and from Winnipeg.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Red Krayola to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Main Source tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dead Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mary Jane Girls,
Donald Byrd,
Crispy Ambulance,
Anakelly,
Mr. Review,
Outsiders,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Saints,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bobby Sherman,
Deepchord,
Glenn Branca,
The Buckinghams,
Kool Moe Dee,
Roxy Music,
The Selecter,
Das Ding,
Brass Construction,
Pylon,
Yusef Lateef,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Roger Hodgson,
Monks,
Yaz,
the Soft Cell,
Los Fastidios,
Lou Reed,
Ludus,
Moby Grape,
Procol Harum,
Index,
Mantronix,
Khruangbin,
Sonic Youth,
Echospace,
Swans,
Suburban Knight,
Bang On A Can,
Cheater Slicks,
Rakim,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Names,
The Sisters of Mercy,
E-Dancer,
The Modern Lovers,
Brothers Johnson,
Quadrant,
Connie Case,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Kinks,
Mo-Dettes,
Drexciya,
Tubeway Army,
Juan Atkins,
the Slits,
Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green, Gang Green.
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.