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 Poland and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Moss Icon to the rock 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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All The Five Americans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pretty Things 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Neil Young & Crazy Horse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
Avey Tare,
Arab on Radar,
Sällskapet,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Blossom Toes,
John Coltrane,
Gregory Isaacs,
Rekid,
Eurythmics,
Pole,
John Cale,
The Flesh Eaters,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Robert Görl,
Eve St. Jones,
L. Decosne,
Flash Fearless,
Little Man,
Bobby Sherman,
Gong,
DJ Sneak,
Sun Ra,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Alice Coltrane,
David Bowie,
Charles Mingus,
Letta Mbulu,
Smog,
Gang Gang Dance,
Funky Four + One,
The Cramps,
The Golliwogs,
Moebius,
Supertramp,
The Dirtbombs,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Radiohead,
The New Christs,
Bill Wells,
Deepchord,
Parry Music,
Crooked Eye,
This Heat,
David Axelrod,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Cal Tjader,
Swell Maps,
The Knickerbockers,
Suicide,
Q and Not U,
Vainqueur,
Stetsasonic,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Neu!,
John Foxx,
Gil Scott Heron,
E-Dancer,
Organ,
Sex Pistols,
Todd Rundgren,
X-102,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.