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 Tajikistan and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Cowsills to the grunge 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 Beasts of Bourbon. All the underground hits.
All Gary Puckett & The Union Gap tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dave Clark Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fela Kuti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
DJ Style,
Gichy Dan,
Public Image Ltd.,
Subhumans,
Chrome,
Japan,
Kool Moe Dee,
Arthur Verocai,
Spandau Ballet,
Tom Boy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Henry Cow,
Black Sheep,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bad Manners,
JFA,
Derrick May,
Pole,
Harry Pussy,
Heaven 17,
These Immortal Souls,
Ituana,
Lyres,
Negative Approach,
Au Pairs,
Neu!,
48th St. Collective,
The Cure,
The Offenders,
The Five Americans,
Drive Like Jehu,
Eurythmics,
Pussy Galore,
Jandek,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Kerrie Biddell,
Ten City,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Slackers,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Smoke,
Groovy Waters,
The Angels of Light,
The Count Five,
David McCallum,
Clear Light,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Marc Almond,
The Names,
Public Enemy,
Loose Ends,
Mr. Review,
Theoretical Girls,
Graham Central Station,
The Black Dice,
The Durutti Column,
Babytalk,
Warsaw,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane, John Coltrane.
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.