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 Belarus and from Mexico City.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 spring reverb 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 Half Japanese to the jazz 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 Oblivians. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Malaria!,
Vainqueur,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cameo,
the Swans,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Arab on Radar,
Y Pants,
Suicide,
LL Cool J,
DNA,
Ponytail,
Aswad,
the Normal,
Roger Hodgson,
The Searchers,
The United States of America,
Aloha Tigers,
Bronski Beat,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Groovy Waters,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Trojans,
B.T. Express,
Rosa Yemen,
In Retrospect,
Minor Threat,
Pierre Henry,
Bill Wells,
Fad Gadget,
Blancmange,
Bill Near,
Arthur Verocai,
Jeff Lynne,
MC5,
X-Ray Spex,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Barracudas,
Ultra Naté,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Ice-T,
Mission of Burma,
Kool Moe Dee,
Nik Kershaw,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Young Rascals,
Schoolly D,
Siglo XX,
June of 44,
Masters at Work,
Minnie Riperton,
The Kinks,
Pantytec,
Rekid,
The Skatalites,
Bob Dylan,
Fat Boys,
Suburban Knight,
Royal Trux,
Pulsallama,
Q65,
Tim Buckley,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.