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 Macedonia and from Tehran.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Bill Wells to the disco 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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Swans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eden Ahbez record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bizarre Inc.,
Barrington Levy,
Crispy Ambulance,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Gang Starr,
Angry Samoans,
The Monochrome Set,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Davy DMX,
Mr. Review,
Bobby Sherman,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Slits,
The Saints,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cybotron,
Bobby Womack,
The Black Dice,
Magma,
Little Man,
Minutemen,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ludus,
Gang Gang Dance,
Man Parrish,
New Age Steppers,
The Buckinghams,
Hardrive,
Cheater Slicks,
Joey Negro,
Section 25,
X-Ray Spex,
Drexciya,
Aural Exciters,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sam Rivers,
Man Eating Sloth,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Black Sheep,
Aswad,
Deadbeat,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The United States of America,
Matthew Halsall,
Dave Gahan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
T. Rex,
Crime,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
U.S. Maple,
Marc Almond,
JFA,
Juan Atkins,
Pet Shop Boys,
Slave,
Kaleidoscope,
Kas Product,
Gabor Szabo,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy, The Sisters of Mercy.
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.