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 Guinea and from Lagos.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare 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 Mandrill to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Terrestrial Tones,
U.S. Maple,
Jerry's Kids,
The Pretty Things,
Ronnie Foster,
Subhumans,
K-Klass,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Angry Samoans,
Albert Ayler,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Remains,
Avey Tare,
Dawn Penn,
The Dead C,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Kool Moe Dee,
Charles Mingus,
Metal Thangz,
Yaz,
Livin' Joy,
Gregory Isaacs,
Flipper,
Siglo XX,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Boz Scaggs,
Gichy Dan,
Masters at Work,
Gastr Del Sol,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lou Reed,
Sight & Sound,
Ituana,
Country Teasers,
Matthew Bourne,
Pylon,
Cymande,
Little Man,
The Tremeloes,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Lydon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
48th St. Collective,
Bobby Womack,
The Buckinghams,
Absolute Body Control,
Black Pus,
Robert Hood,
The Invisible,
Funky Four + One,
Ornette Coleman,
Bluetip,
Kenny Larkin,
Camouflage,
Marvin Gaye,
MDC,
Deakin,
The Monks,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.