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 Uruguay and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band to the grime 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 Skarface. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bauhaus 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?
Byron Stingily,
La Düsseldorf,
Severed Heads,
Circle Jerks,
Hoover,
Roxette,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bush Tetras,
The Gories,
the Sonics,
Boz Scaggs,
Barbara Tucker,
Lightning Bolt,
Mandrill,
June Days,
Juan Atkins,
Kerri Chandler,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Beau Brummels,
K-Klass,
Kenny Larkin,
Reagan Youth,
Pere Ubu,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Mr. Review,
Average White Band,
Kerrie Biddell,
Model 500,
David Bowie,
Swell Maps,
Davy DMX,
Adolescents,
The Gladiators,
Das Ding,
H. Thieme,
Bootsy Collins,
Pulsallama,
The Dirtbombs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Deadbeat,
Swans,
Whodini,
Minny Pops,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Freddie Wadling,
a-ha,
The Fall,
Archie Shepp,
Surgeon,
Ossler,
Susan Cadogan,
ABBA,
Eden Ahbez,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
U.S. Maple,
Dawn Penn,
Cluster,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Cymande,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.