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 El Salvador and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gichy Dan to the jazz 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 Kings Of Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
The Alarm Clocks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Morten Harket,
Man Parrish,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Robert Hood,
Buzzcocks,
Harry Pussy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Black Pus,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Connie Case,
Yaz,
10cc,
Donny Hathaway,
Godley & Creme,
The Divine Comedy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Crispy Ambulance,
Panda Bear,
Stetsasonic,
A Certain Ratio,
Tommy Roe,
Todd Terry,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Boredoms,
Black Sheep,
Thee Headcoats,
Jawbox,
Eric Copeland,
Electric Prunes,
Scan 7,
David McCallum,
Symarip,
Howard Jones,
Lou Christie,
Funky Four + One,
Ludus,
Erasure,
Altered Images,
The Gladiators,
Scion,
Kaleidoscope,
Swell Maps,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Au Pairs,
The Tremeloes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Wings,
Jesper Dahlback,
Amon Düül,
The Trojans,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Funkadelic,
Derrick Morgan,
the Bar-Kays,
T. Rex,
The Birthday Party,
Monolake,
Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange, Blancmange.
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.