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 Guatemala and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 arpeggiator 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 Shadows of Knight to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Byron Stingily. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Neil Young 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
The Blackbyrds,
Silicon Teens,
New York Dolls,
Barrington Levy,
The Flesh Eaters,
Metal Thangz,
Nils Olav,
The Gladiators,
James Chance & The Contortions,
David McCallum,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mary Jane Girls,
Sam Rivers,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Oneida,
James White and The Blacks,
Lower 48,
The Cure,
Eurythmics,
Aloha Tigers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
MDC,
Eric Dolphy,
Susan Cadogan,
Man Parrish,
Bronski Beat,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Zapp,
Crash Course in Science,
Sarah Menescal,
Dark Day,
Shuggie Otis,
Bluetip,
The Kinks,
The Electric Prunes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
In Retrospect,
Tropical Tobacco,
Minnie Riperton,
Marmalade,
Lindisfarne,
Connie Case,
Arab on Radar,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Fat Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rosa Yemen,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Mark Hollis,
Liliput,
Pagans,
Bill Wells,
Essential Logic,
Neu!,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Flag,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Erykah Badu,
Black Moon,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Josef K, Josef K, Josef K, Josef K.
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.