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 Tunisia and from Hong Kong.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Junior Murvin to the rock 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 Silicon Teens. All the underground hits.
All Liaisons Dangereuses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reagan Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Richard Hell and the Voidoids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
B.T. Express,
Piero Umiliani,
Terrestrial Tones,
John Cale,
48th St. Collective,
Carl Craig,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Smoke,
Pylon,
Sonic Youth,
Radiopuhelimet,
Scrapy,
Alison Limerick,
Henry Cow,
Television,
The Names,
John Lydon,
The Durutti Column,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gang Green,
Scion,
Lou Reed,
La Düsseldorf,
Urselle,
D'Angelo,
PIL,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Minnie Riperton,
This Heat,
Kayak,
Michelle Simonal,
Soft Cell,
Brothers Johnson,
Janne Schatter,
Youth Brigade,
Al Stewart,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sister Nancy,
Marvin Gaye,
Heaven 17,
Tropical Tobacco,
Sex Pistols,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Saints,
Agitation Free,
Blake Baxter,
Scott Walker,
Danielle Patucci,
T. Rex,
Yellowson,
Soft Machine,
Duran Duran,
Gang of Four,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Standells,
The Barracudas,
FM Einheit,
Flash Fearless,
Sparks,
Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis, Oppenheimer Analysis.
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.