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 Brazil and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Portland.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the oboe 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 The Gap Band to the rap 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 U.S. Maple. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Chrome record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Second Layer,
Lee Hazlewood,
Maurizio,
Barry Ungar,
Eve St. Jones,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Move,
Henry Cow,
Public Enemy,
Mr. Review,
The Dead C,
The Gories,
Steve Hackett,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Five Americans,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rakim,
Roxette,
La Düsseldorf,
Curtis Mayfield,
Maleditus Sound,
DJ Sneak,
Brand Nubian,
The Doobie Brothers,
David McCallum,
Slave,
The Offenders,
Oblivians,
Sex Pistols,
The Pretty Things,
Reuben Wilson,
Sandy B,
Bill Near,
Funky Four + One,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Underground Resistance,
Wire,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Names,
Joy Division,
Minutemen,
the Germs,
Dark Day,
The Pop Group,
The Angels of Light,
Piero Umiliani,
Section 25,
The Victims,
The Mummies,
Scratch Acid,
Thompson Twins,
The Monochrome Set,
Visage,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Outsiders,
Arab on Radar,
Erasure,
Ronan,
The Barracudas,
Roxy Music,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.