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 Papua New Guinea and from Milan.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord 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 Black Moon to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All Adolescents tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bush Tetras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
Byron Stingily,
Cheater Slicks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Sex Pistols,
Joey Negro,
MDC,
Average White Band,
The Searchers,
T. Rex,
The Divine Comedy,
Hashim,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scientists,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ten City,
F. McDonald,
Traffic Nightmare,
Harmonia,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Thee Headcoats,
Iggy Pop,
Eden Ahbez,
Barry Ungar,
Pylon,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Toasters,
The Red Krayola,
Black Pus,
Monolake,
R.M.O.,
Sight & Sound,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sparks,
Alphaville,
Visage,
Radiohead,
Sixth Finger,
Intrusion,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Grass Roots,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lindisfarne,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Warsaw,
Gichy Dan,
Quantec,
The Doobie Brothers,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Television,
Urselle,
Can,
The Gap Band,
Deepchord,
Essential Logic,
Stockholm Monsters,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.