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 Comoros and from Philadelphia.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Anthony Braxton to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All The Kinks 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 dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
James White and The Blacks,
Wolf Eyes,
Talk Talk,
Ultra Naté,
Cameo,
Yusef Lateef,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Soft Machine,
Leonard Cohen,
Dark Day,
the Human League,
Icehouse,
Barclay James Harvest,
Make Up,
8 Eyed Spy,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sexual Harrassment,
Lyres,
Fela Kuti,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Avey Tare,
Brick,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Mad Mike,
Scientists,
Underground Resistance,
K-Klass,
Cal Tjader,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The J.B.'s,
Cluster,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Donald Byrd,
La Düsseldorf,
The Move,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Agitation Free,
Stereo Dub,
Tres Demented,
Desert Stars,
Moss Icon,
Eric Dolphy,
Crime,
Model 500,
The Buckinghams,
Mars,
Niagra,
UT,
Loose Ends,
Johnny Osbourne,
Q65,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Jeff Mills,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Glenn Branca,
U.S. Maple,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.