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 Zimbabwe and from Mumbai.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Siouxsie and the Banshees to the electroclash 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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All OOIOO tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Accadde A 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Cowsills,
Alison Limerick,
The Slackers,
Desert Stars,
Pere Ubu,
The Mojo Men,
Althea and Donna,
These Immortal Souls,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Organ,
Lower 48,
The Neon Judgement,
Minny Pops,
Fela Kuti,
Robert Hood,
Minutemen,
Colin Newman,
Roxy Music,
Bobby Womack,
Glenn Branca,
Roger Hodgson,
Eddi Front,
Maleditus Sound,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Durutti Column,
Dawn Penn,
Sex Pistols,
The Sonics,
Neu!,
Skriet,
Jeff Lynne,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Joe Finger,
kango's stein massive,
Lightning Bolt,
Liliput,
Marine Girls,
The J.B.'s,
Gang of Four,
Con Funk Shun,
The Pretty Things,
Quando Quango,
Eric Copeland,
Brothers Johnson,
Donald Byrd,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Massinfluence,
Idris Muhammad,
Byron Stingily,
Banda Bassotti,
The Index,
Bobby Byrd,
Chrome,
Eve St. Jones,
Anakelly,
Steve Hackett,
The Five Americans,
Donny Hathaway,
The Dead C,
Sarah Menescal,
Boredoms,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.