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 Cuba and from Stockholm.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 X-101 to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band. All the underground hits.
All John Foxx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Pus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
The Moody Blues,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sex Pistols,
8 Eyed Spy,
Bluetip,
The Blackbyrds,
Graham Central Station,
Loose Ends,
Eric Copeland,
Visage,
the Normal,
X-101,
Black Sheep,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Yazoo,
Anthony Braxton,
Fatback Band,
Panda Bear,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lee Hazlewood,
Q and Not U,
Jimmy McGriff,
Frankie Knuckles,
Cybotron,
Tomorrow,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Martian,
Susan Cadogan,
Crash Course in Science,
Bizarre Inc.,
Roy Ayers,
Hashim,
Icehouse,
The Electric Prunes,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Dave Clark Five,
Depeche Mode,
The Move,
ABC,
Index,
Smog,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Albert Ayler,
The Litter,
The Knickerbockers,
Clear Light,
Soul II Soul,
Gabor Szabo,
Country Teasers,
The Motions,
Sparks,
Joey Negro,
Shuggie Otis,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Skaos,
Gong,
The Standells,
Eve St. Jones,
Al Stewart,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.