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 Iraq and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Crooked Eye to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Theoretical Girls. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Rapeman,
Scott Walker,
The United States of America,
La Düsseldorf,
Dark Day,
Dual Sessions,
Harry Pussy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bush Tetras,
The Smiths,
The Tremeloes,
Clear Light,
Pussy Galore,
Deakin,
Pierre Henry,
The Blackbyrds,
X-102,
MDC,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Monks,
Maurizio,
The J.B.'s,
Deepchord,
Zapp,
These Immortal Souls,
Electric Prunes,
Danielle Patucci,
Oneida,
Josef K,
the Fania All-Stars,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Faraquet,
Subhumans,
The Fugs,
Babytalk,
Dawn Penn,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Mark Hollis,
The Monochrome Set,
Ken Boothe,
Ponytail,
Henry Cow,
Johnny Clarke,
Los Fastidios,
Minnie Riperton,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Cowsills,
Sister Nancy,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Techniques,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Andrew Hill,
Archie Shepp,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Alison Limerick,
Fluxion,
Ralphi Rosario,
DJ Style,
Fat Boys,
The Zeros,
The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers, The Knickerbockers.
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.