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 Venezuela and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1961 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Associates to the techno 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Average White Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Louis and Bebe Barron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a U.S. Maple record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Move,
Bronski Beat,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The American Breed,
Bobby Byrd,
Sällskapet,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Standells,
The Names,
Barclay James Harvest,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Bobby Sherman,
Massinfluence,
Ultravox,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
DJ Style,
Lee Hazlewood,
Main Source,
Excepter,
Audionom,
cv313,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Gun Club,
Rekid,
Brothers Johnson,
The Blackbyrds,
Josef K,
Sexual Harrassment,
The United States of America,
Mark Hollis,
T.S.O.L.,
Sam Rivers,
Sex Pistols,
Roy Ayers,
Minny Pops,
Icehouse,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Wasted Youth,
Stetsasonic,
Eddi Front,
Warren Ellis,
La Düsseldorf,
Judy Mowatt,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Swell Maps,
The Beau Brummels,
Funkadelic,
Ponytail,
Suicide,
Kerrie Biddell,
Graham Central Station,
Symarip,
Electric Prunes,
Fluxion,
Ituana,
The Velvet Underground,
The Grass Roots,
The Moleskins,
Rufus Thomas,
Procol Harum,
Harpers Bizarre,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.