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 Equatorial Guinea and from Woodstock.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 organ 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 Sixth Finger to the rock kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Franke. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an arpeggiator 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 organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Saints,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Talk Talk,
8 Eyed Spy,
Aloha Tigers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Sällskapet,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Arab on Radar,
Interpol,
Maleditus Sound,
Dead Boys,
The Raincoats,
The Index,
Au Pairs,
Cal Tjader,
The Buckinghams,
Peter & Gordon,
Joyce Sims,
Mars,
Saccharine Trust,
Von Mondo,
Groovy Waters,
Mad Mike,
Bronski Beat,
Pole,
The Smoke,
Pierre Henry,
This Heat,
The Dirtbombs,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Trumans Water,
Camberwell Now,
Rapeman,
Cameo,
Bootsy Collins,
Cybotron,
Fugazi,
Harmonia,
Ossler,
the Normal,
Marc Almond,
Sex Pistols,
The Doobie Brothers,
Blossom Toes,
Average White Band,
Archie Shepp,
Loose Ends,
D'Angelo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Grey Daturas,
June Days,
Eve St. Jones,
Skarface,
L. Decosne,
Bush Tetras,
Young Marble Giants,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.