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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Manchester.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the theremin 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 Eli Mardock to the rock 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Nico tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Section 25 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eve St. Jones record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
Pierre Henry,
The Stooges,
Quadrant,
Mr. Review,
Heaven 17,
Crispy Ambulance,
Dawn Penn,
Lower 48,
Nirvana,
The Residents,
The Zeros,
The Standells,
CMW,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Alison Limerick,
Slick Rick,
John Foxx,
Deadbeat,
The Cowsills,
The Martian,
Fad Gadget,
June Days,
Suburban Knight,
Sugar Minott,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Doors,
Tommy Roe,
The Fire Engines,
Franke,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Althea and Donna,
Make Up,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Roxette,
Danielle Patucci,
Camouflage,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Brass Construction,
Smog,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Das Ding,
Zapp,
Fluxion,
Popol Vuh,
Quando Quango,
Procol Harum,
Neil Young,
Rosa Yemen,
Drive Like Jehu,
Joensuu 1685,
Main Source,
Clear Light,
Albert Ayler,
Kerrie Biddell,
Howard Jones,
One Last Wish,
Sandy B,
Minutemen,
Agitation Free,
Mars,
Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters, Aural Exciters.
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.