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 Lagos.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Alice Coltrane to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Gories. All the underground hits.
All Second Layer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-Ray Spex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
the Human League,
OOIOO,
The Divine Comedy,
the Normal,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
EPMD,
Cheater Slicks,
Barbara Tucker,
Section 25,
Nik Kershaw,
The Monks,
The Fall,
MDC,
Skarface,
Morten Harket,
Hoover,
Moebius,
Donald Byrd,
New York Dolls,
The Buckinghams,
Scott Walker,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Freddie Wadling,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Brass Construction,
Pagans,
Bootsy Collins,
Vainqueur,
Yaz,
Country Teasers,
Fugazi,
The Fire Engines,
Nick Fraelich,
Wally Richardson,
Jeff Mills,
Depeche Mode,
Interpol,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Idris Muhammad,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Mojo Men,
Minor Threat,
Kool Moe Dee,
Rapeman,
Symarip,
Gastr Del Sol,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Soft Cell,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ultimate Spinach,
K-Klass,
Thee Headcoats,
Archie Shepp,
The Last Poets,
The J.B.'s,
The American Breed,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Average White Band,
The Skatalites,
X-Ray Spex,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.