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 Bangladesh and from Woodstock.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 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 Minutemen to the funk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wolf Eyes,
Organ,
Q and Not U,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sixth Finger,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Wings,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Juan Atkins,
Morten Harket,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Real Kids,
Lower 48,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Yellowson,
Alice Coltrane,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cameo,
Crime,
Deakin,
Duran Duran,
Nico,
The Smiths,
Slave,
The Toasters,
Lalann,
Severed Heads,
The Last Poets,
Technova,
Terry Callier,
Urselle,
Adolescents,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Scott Walker,
K-Klass,
David Bowie,
John Coltrane,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Yusef Lateef,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Toni Rubio,
Alison Limerick,
Sight & Sound,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Golliwogs,
Robert Hood,
Pierre Henry,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barbara Tucker,
The Leaves,
Rufus Thomas,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Fuzztones,
Skaos,
Sex Pistols,
Zero Boys,
Idris Muhammad,
Marmalade,
Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy, Barrington Levy.
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.