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 Ireland 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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 arpeggiator 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 DeepChord presents Echospace to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Eden Ahbez tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Slits 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
La Düsseldorf,
Marc Almond,
Matthew Halsall,
Hardrive,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Alton Ellis,
Pylon,
Gang Green,
Yellowson,
the Sonics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kerrie Biddell,
Flipper,
T.S.O.L.,
Dawn Penn,
These Immortal Souls,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Electric Prunes,
Sexual Harrassment,
Darondo,
The Skatalites,
Ash Ra Tempel,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gang Starr,
L. Decosne,
Mo-Dettes,
Magma,
Dark Day,
Los Fastidios,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Pretty Things,
Oneida,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Kenny Larkin,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
James Chance & The Contortions,
X-101,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
James White and The Blacks,
Urselle,
Blancmange,
Pere Ubu,
The Flesh Eaters,
Terry Callier,
Moss Icon,
Kerri Chandler,
Interpol,
Lindisfarne,
Shoche,
Wire,
The Zeros,
Kurtis Blow,
AZ,
The Seeds,
Infiniti,
Ponytail,
Faust,
DJ Sneak,
Gerry Rafferty,
Warsaw,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.