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 Argentina and from Manchester.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Wally Richardson to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dirtbombs 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The American Breed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Easy Going,
The Smoke,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Dawn Penn,
The Seeds,
The Victims,
Kas Product,
John Coltrane,
Scientists,
Ronan,
Mr. Review,
Matthew Bourne,
Babytalk,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Flipper,
Sonic Youth,
Swans,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Skatalites,
The Modern Lovers,
Curtis Mayfield,
Connie Case,
The Busters,
Robert Görl,
Sam Rivers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Sister Nancy,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bush Tetras,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Tremeloes,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Dorothy Ashby,
Suicide,
the Human League,
Mission of Burma,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Mummies,
Sixth Finger,
Crooked Eye,
X-Ray Spex,
The Blackbyrds,
Procol Harum,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Flash Fearless,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Pretty Things,
Bobby Byrd,
Icehouse,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gichy Dan,
Arthur Verocai,
Suburban Knight,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Germs,
Pharoah Sanders,
D'Angelo,
Fluxion,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy, The Peanut Butter Conspiracy.
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.