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 Philippines and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 guitar 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 Matthew Bourne to the crunk 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 the Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All The Red Krayola tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Coltrane,
Pole,
The Selecter,
Fad Gadget,
Black Flag,
Sugar Minott,
Matthew Bourne,
MDC,
Barbara Tucker,
The Five Americans,
Donald Byrd,
the Bar-Kays,
Rufus Thomas,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Grauzone,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sällskapet,
Gichy Dan,
Sandy B,
Kerri Chandler,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Saints,
Man Eating Sloth,
Groovy Waters,
Kaleidoscope,
the Normal,
Bill Near,
Flipper,
Sonic Youth,
Bluetip,
Negative Approach,
Eurythmics,
Hoover,
Subhumans,
The Mummies,
Jerry Gold Smith,
the Germs,
The Grass Roots,
The Fortunes,
Iggy Pop,
Sexual Harrassment,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Fugs,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Dark Day,
Deepchord,
Niagra,
The Standells,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Con Funk Shun,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Essential Logic,
Can,
Popol Vuh,
Pulsallama,
The Pretty Things,
Radiohead,
Main Source,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Boredoms,
The American Breed,
Loose Ends,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front, Eddi Front.
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.