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 Equatorial Guinea and from Glasgow.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Pole to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Searchers. All the underground hits.
All The Mighty Diamonds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New York Dolls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Happenings record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jimmy McGriff,
These Immortal Souls,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Black Flag,
Livin' Joy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sonic Youth,
The Monks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lindisfarne,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Dirtbombs,
Camouflage,
the Germs,
Faraquet,
Alton Ellis,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Young Rascals,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Flamin' Groovies,
Can,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Technova,
Minor Threat,
Saccharine Trust,
The Knickerbockers,
The Walker Brothers,
Brothers Johnson,
Charles Mingus,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
In Retrospect,
The Sisters of Mercy,
cv313,
Khruangbin,
Television,
Blake Baxter,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Lalann,
Hardrive,
The Grass Roots,
Lungfish,
Sonny Sharrock,
Oneida,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Human League,
New Age Steppers,
Ituana,
Graham Central Station,
Piero Umiliani,
Amon Düül II,
David Axelrod,
The Fuzztones,
The Wake,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Matthew Bourne,
MC5,
Lower 48,
Banda Bassotti,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.