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 Somalia and from Tokyo.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the theremin 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 Freddie Wadling to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reagan Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Tomorrow,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eurythmics,
Ultimate Spinach,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Red Krayola,
The Flesh Eaters,
June of 44,
Pere Ubu,
Blake Baxter,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ten City,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Faust,
Radio Birdman,
The Wake,
The Golliwogs,
Joy Division,
Lungfish,
The Doors,
Main Source,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Scratch Acid,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Robert Görl,
Ralphi Rosario,
Aural Exciters,
Gang Green,
Duran Duran,
Derrick May,
The Fortunes,
Pagans,
Flamin' Groovies,
These Immortal Souls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ultravox,
Fela Kuti,
The Standells,
Man Parrish,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Junior Murvin,
The Gladiators,
X-102,
Barbara Tucker,
Television,
Boz Scaggs,
Al Stewart,
Quantec,
Marmalade,
Camouflage,
Brand Nubian,
Suicide,
The Electric Prunes,
Eli Mardock,
Glambeats Corp.,
Don Cherry,
Groovy Waters,
Pantaleimon,
Q65, Q65, Q65, Q65.
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.