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 Argentina and from Columbus.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
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 Gang Green to the grime 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Patti Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
B.T. Express,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Seeds,
Max Romeo,
Ituana,
Goldenarms,
Wasted Youth,
The Velvet Underground,
Skarface,
Depeche Mode,
Soul II Soul,
DNA,
Barrington Levy,
Bush Tetras,
Pere Ubu,
The Young Rascals,
Popol Vuh,
The Litter,
Piero Umiliani,
The Red Krayola,
Sugar Minott,
The Moody Blues,
Surgeon,
Scott Walker,
Moebius,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Jeff Lynne,
Can,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Dead C,
Harpers Bizarre,
Accadde A,
Icehouse,
Easy Going,
Donald Byrd,
Youth Brigade,
Neil Young,
Maurizio,
Michelle Simonal,
Jandek,
Theoretical Girls,
Country Teasers,
D'Angelo,
David McCallum,
Pagans,
Judy Mowatt,
Banda Bassotti,
Massinfluence,
Adolescents,
Curtis Mayfield,
Slick Rick,
Jimmy McGriff,
Inner City,
Hot Snakes,
Minutemen,
Ronnie Foster,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Minor Threat,
Tim Buckley,
Rufus Thomas,
Grandmaster Flash,
Joe Smooth,
Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore, Pussy Galore.
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.