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 Afghanistan and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Man Eating Sloth to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Minny Pops tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angels of Light & Akron/Family record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Magma,
Warren Ellis,
Henry Cow,
Hot Snakes,
Brick,
Soft Cell,
Bobby Sherman,
Mantronix,
Nik Kershaw,
Nirvana,
Black Bananas,
Whodini,
Pharoah Sanders,
Moss Icon,
The Blues Magoos,
R.M.O.,
Kaleidoscope,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Peter & Gordon,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Gerry Rafferty,
Spandau Ballet,
Wings,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Barrington Levy,
Minutemen,
Leonard Cohen,
Harmonia,
Scion,
John Coltrane,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Avey Tare,
the Association,
Goldenarms,
Patti Smith,
T. Rex,
Oneida,
Pagans,
Radiohead,
Camberwell Now,
Sixth Finger,
The Pop Group,
Deepchord,
Sight & Sound,
U.S. Maple,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Skatalites,
Nation of Ulysses,
Marc Almond,
Brothers Johnson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Seeds,
The United States of America,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The Birthday Party,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Black Sheep,
ABBA,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Doors,
Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers, Roy Ayers.
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.