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 Afghanistan and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Litter to the rock 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 Graham Central Station. All the underground hits.
All D'Angelo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pop Group 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 '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 X-101 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marvin Gaye,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bill Wells,
Animal Collective,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Siglo XX,
Jeff Mills,
Ice-T,
Colin Newman,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sight & Sound,
U.S. Maple,
Procol Harum,
Dennis Brown,
Don Cherry,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Harmonia,
Tres Demented,
Rosa Yemen,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Icehouse,
Visage,
Skarface,
Khruangbin,
John Foxx,
Maleditus Sound,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Hashim,
The Saints,
David Bowie,
Agent Orange,
Liliput,
John Coltrane,
Altered Images,
Jawbox,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Al Stewart,
Kevin Saunderson,
Symarip,
OOIOO,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Raincoats,
Arab on Radar,
Pussy Galore,
Terry Callier,
Pylon,
Sällskapet,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Fatback Band,
Aswad,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Kinks,
Smog,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Joe Smooth,
Letta Mbulu,
Dead Boys,
E-Dancer,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat, Bronski Beat.
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.