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 Mexico and from Salvador.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 snare 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All Echospace tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Unwound 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Johnny Osbourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jacques Brel,
The Buckinghams,
Y Pants,
Barclay James Harvest,
ABBA,
Black Pus,
Unrelated Segments,
Tommy Roe,
Cluster,
Nick Fraelich,
The Pretty Things,
Outsiders,
Arab on Radar,
the Human League,
Pole,
Howard Jones,
Main Source,
Aswad,
Simply Red,
Echospace,
The Black Dice,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Brass Construction,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Marine Girls,
Boredoms,
Nirvana,
The Martian,
Chris & Cosey,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Country Teasers,
L. Decosne,
The Zeros,
the Soft Cell,
Sonic Youth,
Interpol,
The Searchers,
Procol Harum,
Yazoo,
Deakin,
Soul II Soul,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
FM Einheit,
The Detroit Cobras,
Essential Logic,
Funkadelic,
Big Daddy Kane,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Alphaville,
The Selecter,
Tomorrow,
Hot Snakes,
Joe Smooth,
Surgeon,
Mars,
The Saints,
Can,
David McCallum,
Gastr Del Sol,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed, Lou Reed.
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.