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 Ghana and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 oboe 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gabor Szabo. All the underground hits.
All Lalann tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Royal Family And The Poor record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Marmalade,
The Gun Club,
Ohio Players,
Dead Boys,
Metal Thangz,
Make Up,
Babytalk,
The Knickerbockers,
Nils Olav,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Q65,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Mission of Burma,
Malaria!,
Eve St. Jones,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Theoretical Girls,
Isaac Hayes,
Pantytec,
Blossom Toes,
The Moleskins,
the Association,
The Slackers,
The Gladiators,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bauhaus,
Mr. Review,
Adolescents,
Quadrant,
The Litter,
Yusef Lateef,
Scion,
X-102,
The Victims,
Slave,
Desert Stars,
Animal Collective,
Icehouse,
Peter & Gordon,
R.M.O.,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kenny Larkin,
Carl Craig,
Heaven 17,
Hardrive,
Pagans,
The Music Machine,
10cc,
Bootsy Collins,
Goldenarms,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Con Funk Shun,
Intrusion,
Depeche Mode,
Au Pairs,
Throbbing Gristle,
T.S.O.L.,
David Axelrod,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.