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 Guyana and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 linndrum 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 The Index to the rap kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Robert Görl,
These Immortal Souls,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Index,
Rhythm & Sound,
Subhumans,
Scientists,
The Dead C,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kurtis Blow,
Gang of Four,
John Holt,
The Remains,
Lalo Schifrin,
Skarface,
The Kinks,
Mr. Review,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Reagan Youth,
DJ Style,
Y Pants,
Traffic Nightmare,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Divine Comedy,
Essential Logic,
Groovy Waters,
Eric Copeland,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Mighty Diamonds,
the Slits,
Prince Buster,
Flamin' Groovies,
Nico,
Intrusion,
Kerrie Biddell,
a-ha,
The Neon Judgement,
Crispian St. Peters,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Maleditus Sound,
Cluster,
Circle Jerks,
Brothers Johnson,
Archie Shepp,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gerry Rafferty,
Carl Craig,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Public Image Ltd.,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Erykah Badu,
Blossom Toes,
Soul II Soul,
The Associates,
The Five Americans,
Agitation Free,
Crispy Ambulance,
LL Cool J,
Roger Hodgson,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo, Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo.
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.