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 Syria and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Matthew Halsall to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Motorama. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Happenings record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Siglo XX,
Jeff Mills,
These Immortal Souls,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Doors,
Byron Stingily,
Marshall Jefferson,
Section 25,
Camberwell Now,
Aswad,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
B.T. Express,
Lou Reed,
Pagans,
Quadrant,
Alton Ellis,
Cheater Slicks,
Pantytec,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Cluster,
Silicon Teens,
Mission of Burma,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Masters at Work,
John Holt,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Saints,
ABBA,
Intrusion,
Guru Guru,
Dawn Penn,
Organ,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Von Mondo,
Sonic Youth,
Chris Corsano,
Spoonie Gee,
Colin Newman,
Arthur Verocai,
Anakelly,
Newcleus,
The Buckinghams,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Livin' Joy,
The Slackers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Ponytail,
Jimmy McGriff,
Yusef Lateef,
Niagra,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Smog,
Tim Buckley,
The Toasters,
Fela Kuti,
Blossom Toes,
David Axelrod,
The Dead C,
Donald Byrd,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.