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 Cyprus and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 marimba 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 Grass Roots to the crunk 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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Lafayette Afro Rock Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Bananas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Excepter,
Jacob Miller,
Tommy Roe,
Cameo,
Quantec,
Echospace,
The Vogues,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Dead C,
Pere Ubu,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Move,
Con Funk Shun,
Lower 48,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Laurel Aitken,
Moss Icon,
Joe Smooth,
Barrington Levy,
The Monochrome Set,
Piero Umiliani,
Althea and Donna,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
the Sonics,
Pantytec,
Aaron Thompson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Procol Harum,
Minutemen,
Wings,
PIL,
Robert Hood,
Mark Hollis,
The Gun Club,
Black Pus,
Deakin,
A Certain Ratio,
Curtis Mayfield,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Fuzztones,
In Retrospect,
OOIOO,
The Fortunes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Black Sheep,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Man Parrish,
Q65,
Flipper,
Agitation Free,
Mars,
Adolescents,
Neu!,
Agent Orange,
Johnny Clarke,
Ituana,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gong,
Dark Day,
The Raincoats,
Arthur Verocai,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.