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 Sierra Leone and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 clarinet 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 Mars to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Stetsasonic 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dark Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Stockholm Monsters,
Zero Boys,
Oneida,
Wally Richardson,
Ituana,
Supertramp,
Tropical Tobacco,
Con Funk Shun,
The Dead C,
Bizarre Inc.,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Faust,
Thompson Twins,
The Buckinghams,
Girls At Our Best!,
Avey Tare,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Hashim,
Khruangbin,
Man Eating Sloth,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rapeman,
David Bowie,
Kayak,
Oblivians,
Duran Duran,
Pole,
Sugar Minott,
Amazonics,
Scan 7,
Yaz,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Desert Stars,
World's Most,
Skarface,
Kerri Chandler,
Nils Olav,
Glenn Branca,
Pulsallama,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Anthony Braxton,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Music Machine,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Funkadelic,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Roxette,
Fad Gadget,
Magma,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bobby Byrd,
Index,
F. McDonald,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Mantronix,
Ten City,
Fat Boys,
Basic Channel,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster, Ronnie Foster.
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.