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 Cameroon and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Scan 7 to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Stiv Bators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Moby Grape,
Matthew Bourne,
Graham Central Station,
Marc Almond,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Grass Roots,
Yellowson,
Freddie Wadling,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Victims,
Judy Mowatt,
The Kinks,
Hardrive,
Eli Mardock,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mission of Burma,
Jacques Brel,
Fatback Band,
Banda Bassotti,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Nik Kershaw,
Make Up,
Siglo XX,
Robert Hood,
the Sonics,
Whodini,
Faust,
Rakim,
Janne Schatter,
Avey Tare,
John Holt,
Lucky Dragons,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
8 Eyed Spy,
Cecil Taylor,
Radiopuhelimet,
Symarip,
Underground Resistance,
Ultravox,
A Certain Ratio,
The Associates,
John Coltrane,
Ronnie Foster,
cv313,
Eve St. Jones,
Procol Harum,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Vogues,
The Happenings,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Main Source,
Sight & Sound,
Rapeman,
Malaria!,
The American Breed,
The Raincoats,
Severed Heads,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy, The Divine Comedy.
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.