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 Cuba and from London.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Nile Rodgers 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 8 Eyed Spy to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Rekid,
Ken Boothe,
Y Pants,
OOIOO,
Excepter,
Skaos,
Echospace,
Intrusion,
the Bar-Kays,
The Fuzztones,
Moby Grape,
Radio Birdman,
Dead Boys,
The Five Americans,
Donny Hathaway,
Nico,
The Residents,
Bill Wells,
Slave,
The Pretty Things,
Stetsasonic,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Terry Callier,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Nick Fraelich,
Make Up,
Sun City Girls,
In Retrospect,
Yazoo,
Amazonics,
Livin' Joy,
The Remains,
K-Klass,
John Foxx,
Maurizio,
Erasure,
The Durutti Column,
10cc,
Tubeway Army,
The Neon Judgement,
One Last Wish,
Bobby Sherman,
Japan,
Pere Ubu,
The Smoke,
Khruangbin,
Slick Rick,
Buzzcocks,
Soulsonic Force,
The Blues Magoos,
Masters at Work,
Brass Construction,
Country Teasers,
Lalo Schifrin,
Ronan,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sexual Harrassment,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Morten Harket,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Gladiators,
The United States of America,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.