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 India and from New York.
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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Brick to the rock 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cluster 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lungfish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eurythmics,
Spoonie Gee,
Trumans Water,
New Order,
Mandrill,
The Human League,
The Black Dice,
Traffic Nightmare,
Banda Bassotti,
The Misunderstood,
Lyres,
Yusef Lateef,
The Monks,
The Barracudas,
The Dead C,
Roxy Music,
Jacques Brel,
Von Mondo,
Sandy B,
Girls At Our Best!,
ABBA,
Tommy Roe,
Gang of Four,
R.M.O.,
Flash Fearless,
Al Stewart,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Danielle Patucci,
Alphaville,
E-Dancer,
Donald Byrd,
Visage,
Gil Scott Heron,
Malaria!,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Skaos,
New York Dolls,
The United States of America,
The Martian,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Angry Samoans,
Eve St. Jones,
Blancmange,
Electric Prunes,
In Retrospect,
Delon & Dalcan,
Joe Finger,
John Foxx,
Supertramp,
Country Teasers,
The J.B.'s,
Johnny Clarke,
The Selecter,
T.S.O.L.,
DJ Style,
Oblivians,
Rod Modell,
D'Angelo,
Fat Boys,
Nas,
Silicon Teens,
Albert Ayler,
The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs, The Dirtbombs.
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.