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 Macedonia and from Mumbai.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Glasgow.
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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the sitar 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 Althea and Donna to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Rekid. All the underground hits.
All Delta 5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Richard Hell and the Voidoids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lower 48 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
48th St. Collective,
The Electric Prunes,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Scientists,
Ronnie Foster,
Crooked Eye,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Reagan Youth,
Al Stewart,
Half Japanese,
E-Dancer,
the Soft Cell,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Selecter,
Skaos,
Brass Construction,
Make Up,
Amon Düül,
Janne Schatter,
The Saints,
The Real Kids,
Interpol,
Steve Hackett,
Howard Jones,
Pantaleimon,
Black Sheep,
the Association,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Buckinghams,
Mary Jane Girls,
Y Pants,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sandy B,
The Blackbyrds,
Judy Mowatt,
The Star Department,
Eric Copeland,
Suburban Knight,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Intrusion,
Mr. Review,
Porter Ricks,
China Crisis,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
cv313,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Monochrome Set,
Babytalk,
The Standells,
Bootsy Collins,
Godley & Creme,
The Gun Club,
Youth Brigade,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Camberwell Now,
Pet Shop Boys,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
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.