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 Ukraine and from Woodstock.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Fortunes to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eric Copeland. All the underground hits.
All The Martian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Marine Girls,
Arthur Verocai,
The Gories,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Sonics,
Sugar Minott,
Anakelly,
Rosa Yemen,
Skaos,
Monolake,
The Move,
Aloha Tigers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Tom Boy,
Rufus Thomas,
Crime,
Charles Mingus,
Thee Headcoats,
The Evens,
Black Bananas,
The Pop Group,
Pussy Galore,
Wally Richardson,
Ossler,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Eli Mardock,
Eric Dolphy,
Mad Mike,
Marc Almond,
Flamin' Groovies,
Babytalk,
Inner City,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Zapp,
Dead Boys,
World's Most,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mr. Review,
Eve St. Jones,
Spoonie Gee,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nas,
Parry Music,
Terry Callier,
Prince Buster,
The Fugs,
Lebanon Hanover,
Con Funk Shun,
The Grass Roots,
Surgeon,
Technova,
Alphaville,
Heaven 17,
The Litter,
Gang Green,
The Invisible,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Quando Quango,
Michelle Simonal,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley, Tim Buckley.
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.