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 El Salvador and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 synthesizer 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 Lou Reed to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Howard Jones. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Massinfluence 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Flag record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Bananas,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Kerri Chandler,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Funkadelic,
Audionom,
Spandau Ballet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Loose Ends,
Rufus Thomas,
Guru Guru,
Niagra,
The Grass Roots,
Delon & Dalcan,
Boogie Down Productions,
Main Source,
Animal Collective,
Skriet,
Ralphi Rosario,
Tim Buckley,
Bobby Byrd,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Porter Ricks,
Jeru the Damaja,
Mary Jane Girls,
Au Pairs,
Ponytail,
Kas Product,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Oblivians,
Barry Ungar,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Cal Tjader,
Traffic Nightmare,
Suburban Knight,
Maleditus Sound,
Crispy Ambulance,
A Certain Ratio,
Trumans Water,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Joensuu 1685,
Nico,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Quando Quango,
Bobby Sherman,
Das Ding,
Television Personalities,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Patti Smith,
Donald Byrd,
Hardrive,
Ohio Players,
Fluxion,
Yazoo,
Simply Red,
Popol Vuh,
Aswad,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Panda Bear,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Grauzone,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.