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 Slovakia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Litter to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Crispy Ambulance. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Anakelly,
Severed Heads,
Liliput,
Fear,
New Order,
Lyres,
The Litter,
The Tremeloes,
Harpers Bizarre,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Barclay James Harvest,
Eric Copeland,
Marshall Jefferson,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Camberwell Now,
Matthew Bourne,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The American Breed,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Johnny Osbourne,
Guru Guru,
Avey Tare,
Bob Dylan,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Last Poets,
David Axelrod,
Maleditus Sound,
Sun Ra,
Bad Manners,
T. Rex,
Scientists,
a-ha,
Los Fastidios,
Roxette,
The Beau Brummels,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Masters at Work,
The Black Dice,
JFA,
Charles Mingus,
Little Man,
Adolescents,
The Red Krayola,
Popol Vuh,
Jeff Lynne,
The Selecter,
Suicide,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Lou Reed,
Roger Hodgson,
The Dead C,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Spandau Ballet,
Colin Newman,
The Barracudas,
Godley & Creme,
Sun City Girls,
the Sonics,
Leonard Cohen,
Laurel Aitken,
Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young, Neil Young.
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.