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 Montenegro 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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Lyres to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Sparks. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlback record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swell Maps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
ABC,
Jacques Brel,
The Remains,
Jeff Lynne,
The Angels of Light,
Throbbing Gristle,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Smog,
Mo-Dettes,
The Dead C,
David Bowie,
Severed Heads,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Star Department,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Rod Modell,
Qualms,
Rufus Thomas,
John Cale,
the Soft Cell,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Names,
Au Pairs,
Jerry's Kids,
Technova,
Ornette Coleman,
Mark Hollis,
Nils Olav,
Mission of Burma,
Maurizio,
MC5,
Tomorrow,
Amazonics,
Davy DMX,
X-101,
48th St. Collective,
ABBA,
Groovy Waters,
Theoretical Girls,
The Standells,
Subhumans,
The Smiths,
Harpers Bizarre,
New Age Steppers,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ken Boothe,
Wire,
Young Marble Giants,
John Holt,
Bobby Womack,
La Düsseldorf,
Bill Near,
Scrapy,
The Buckinghams,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kurtis Blow,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Barracudas,
Sister Nancy,
Desert Stars,
Donny Hathaway,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
AZ,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.