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 Luxembourg and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane to the rock kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Arthur Verocai. All the underground hits.
All Pantytec tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Holt 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Bar-Kays record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
Byron Stingily,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Motorama,
Sun Ra,
Cameo,
Bob Dylan,
Mars,
Gang Green,
Funkadelic,
Echospace,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Soft Cell,
Circle Jerks,
The Dirtbombs,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bill Wells,
Man Eating Sloth,
Japan,
Sonic Youth,
Barrington Levy,
X-Ray Spex,
Popol Vuh,
Morten Harket,
Tomorrow,
Andrew Hill,
The Standells,
Essential Logic,
Mary Jane Girls,
Yaz,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Slave,
Letta Mbulu,
Monolake,
Swell Maps,
Sun City Girls,
Scratch Acid,
Surgeon,
The Cure,
Sex Pistols,
Scientists,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tommy Roe,
The Cowsills,
CMW,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Isaac Hayes,
Rhythm & Sound,
Roger Hodgson,
Von Mondo,
Moby Grape,
The Grass Roots,
Rekid,
Aural Exciters,
Iggy Pop,
Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy, Livin' Joy.
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.