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 Eritrea and from Salvador.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Gang Gang Dance to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Severed Heads record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marine Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q and Not U,
the Association,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
ABC,
Can,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Sonics,
Mo-Dettes,
Reuben Wilson,
Smog,
Ultravox,
Marvin Gaye,
The Barracudas,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Black Moon,
Spoonie Gee,
The Selecter,
Colin Newman,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
In Retrospect,
MDC,
Qualms,
Magazine,
Hardrive,
Erasure,
the Normal,
Gang Green,
Joe Smooth,
Barclay James Harvest,
Jesper Dahlback,
The American Breed,
Boz Scaggs,
Traffic Nightmare,
New York Dolls,
The Searchers,
Johnny Osbourne,
Tres Demented,
Aswad,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Smiths,
Massinfluence,
Monks,
The Human League,
The Cowsills,
Dave Gahan,
Rufus Thomas,
Duran Duran,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Fad Gadget,
Kool Moe Dee,
Camberwell Now,
Curtis Mayfield,
June Days,
Livin' Joy,
Hot Snakes,
One Last Wish,
Pussy Galore,
Pagans,
Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith, Jerry Gold Smith.
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.