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 Pakistan and from Shanghai.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Lagos.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the punk 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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All the Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deakin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Delta 5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Seeds,
Blake Baxter,
Altered Images,
The Selecter,
the Bar-Kays,
Deadbeat,
Porter Ricks,
Supertramp,
Ultimate Spinach,
Icehouse,
Franke,
Scratch Acid,
The Music Machine,
Negative Approach,
X-Ray Spex,
Pulsallama,
Rapeman,
Index,
The Human League,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Slave,
Skriet,
Main Source,
Amazonics,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Sound,
Ultravox,
CMW,
Black Moon,
Shoche,
Pagans,
Joyce Sims,
Black Flag,
La Düsseldorf,
The Walker Brothers,
Erykah Badu,
Jeff Lynne,
Jesper Dahlback,
Buzzcocks,
Lindisfarne,
The Tremeloes,
Mark Hollis,
Fad Gadget,
E-Dancer,
Freddie Wadling,
Joey Negro,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Dorothy Ashby,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Au Pairs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Grey Daturas,
Mr. Review,
Rekid,
Jacob Miller,
Derrick Morgan,
Fela Kuti,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Henry Cow,
Sandy B,
Cecil Taylor,
Angry Samoans,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.