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 Australia and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Monochrome Set 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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Lynne tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brass Construction record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb 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 Sonics,
The Moleskins,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lakeside,
Cymande,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Todd Terry,
Dead Boys,
LL Cool J,
Goldenarms,
Cameo,
Soul II Soul,
Kevin Saunderson,
Blossom Toes,
The Raincoats,
the Swans,
Stiv Bators,
Scrapy,
Black Flag,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Colin Newman,
Eric B and Rakim,
Nation of Ulysses,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Saints,
Harmonia,
Circle Jerks,
Brass Construction,
The Flesh Eaters,
Glenn Branca,
Barry Ungar,
Jeff Lynne,
Althea and Donna,
Crispy Ambulance,
Eve St. Jones,
Donny Hathaway,
Subhumans,
The Misunderstood,
Mark Hollis,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Metal Thangz,
Boredoms,
Pet Shop Boys,
B.T. Express,
Hasil Adkins,
The Fugs,
Fluxion,
The J.B.'s,
R.M.O.,
Delta 5,
China Crisis,
Fugazi,
Eurythmics,
Absolute Body Control,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rufus Thomas,
Drexciya,
Pagans,
Nils Olav,
Main Source,
The Sound, The Sound, The Sound, The Sound.
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.