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 Mauritania and from Milan.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 United States of America to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Von Mondo,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Marmalade,
Index,
Khruangbin,
The Kinks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Camouflage,
Neil Young,
The Toasters,
Yazoo,
The Beau Brummels,
Icehouse,
Darondo,
Lindisfarne,
Stockholm Monsters,
Man Eating Sloth,
Rod Modell,
Jeff Mills,
Quando Quango,
Franke,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Dave Gahan,
Eric Dolphy,
Sound Behaviour,
Sparks,
Lalo Schifrin,
DJ Sneak,
Marvin Gaye,
Massinfluence,
The Five Americans,
Ludus,
Dead Boys,
Yellowson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Maurizio,
Todd Rundgren,
Harry Pussy,
Moebius,
Symarip,
Bill Wells,
Josef K,
Rakim,
Drexciya,
Jimmy McGriff,
Faraquet,
Cal Tjader,
Mr. Review,
The Durutti Column,
Moby Grape,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Magazine,
Crispy Ambulance,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Pop Group,
Fugazi,
Spoonie Gee,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Thompson Twins,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.