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 Comoros and from Copenhagen.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Cowsills to the punk 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Eric B and Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
The Pop Group,
Curtis Mayfield,
Q65,
Silicon Teens,
Nils Olav,
Lyres,
The Fire Engines,
Arab on Radar,
Kerrie Biddell,
In Retrospect,
The Names,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Seeds,
Lower 48,
Gichy Dan,
Radio Birdman,
Janne Schatter,
Saccharine Trust,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Spoonie Gee,
Ultravox,
Sarah Menescal,
Max Romeo,
Faust,
The Doobie Brothers,
One Last Wish,
Flipper,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Donald Byrd,
the Normal,
Sugar Minott,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Steve Hackett,
Wire,
Joyce Sims,
Marshall Jefferson,
Zero Boys,
Mars,
Al Stewart,
The Wake,
Easy Going,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Cure,
Lungfish,
Suicide,
Motorama,
Lalann,
ABC,
Marcia Griffiths,
Tropical Tobacco,
Mandrill,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mo-Dettes,
Arcadia,
The Angels of Light,
Cluster,
The Trojans,
Dave Gahan,
Avey Tare,
Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown, Dennis Brown.
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.