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 Panama and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 World's Most to the electroclash 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 Sun Ra. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eyeless In Gaza record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lightning Bolt,
Amazonics,
Traffic Nightmare,
Y Pants,
Bob Dylan,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Joey Negro,
Chrome,
Brass Construction,
Das Ding,
Cheater Slicks,
One Last Wish,
Leonard Cohen,
Shoche,
Symarip,
Lebanon Hanover,
Kenny Larkin,
Kerri Chandler,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Busters,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Iggy Pop,
Brand Nubian,
Groovy Waters,
Banda Bassotti,
Wally Richardson,
L. Decosne,
8 Eyed Spy,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Shuggie Otis,
Kool Moe Dee,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jeru the Damaja,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Siglo XX,
Bobby Womack,
Pylon,
Sister Nancy,
Gabor Szabo,
Jesper Dahlback,
Black Flag,
Swell Maps,
Maleditus Sound,
The J.B.'s,
Gichy Dan,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Essential Logic,
Altered Images,
The Dead C,
Royal Trux,
Clear Light,
The Mummies,
Pulsallama,
Brick,
Lower 48,
Desert Stars,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams, The Buckinghams.
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.