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 Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Spokane.
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 clarinet 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 Jeru the Damaja to the rock 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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All Kerrie Biddell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scratch Acid 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Absolute Body Control,
Piero Umiliani,
Carl Craig,
Rufus Thomas,
New Age Steppers,
Cecil Taylor,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Pop Group,
The Dirtbombs,
The Walker Brothers,
New Order,
Deadbeat,
Guru Guru,
Theoretical Girls,
The Modern Lovers,
Marvin Gaye,
Black Pus,
Todd Rundgren,
Mandrill,
Neil Young,
Pylon,
The Fugs,
Juan Atkins,
Howard Jones,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Joey Negro,
Soul Sonic Force,
Josef K,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Hashim,
Silicon Teens,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Liliput,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Leonard Cohen,
New York Dolls,
B.T. Express,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Cymande,
Scion,
Dawn Penn,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bush Tetras,
Rites of Spring,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Swell Maps,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
D'Angelo,
Moby Grape,
Aaron Thompson,
Unwound,
48th St. Collective,
Tim Buckley,
Tropical Tobacco,
Pagans,
Marshall Jefferson,
Barbara Tucker,
Warren Ellis,
Skaos,
Magma,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.