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 Suriname and from Spokane.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 oboe 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 The Red Krayola 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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All Sonic Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Country Joe & The Fish 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angels of Light & Akron/Family record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Drexciya,
Funky Four + One,
Angry Samoans,
Unwound,
ABC,
Cluster,
Bobby Sherman,
K-Klass,
Sugar Minott,
Panda Bear,
The Five Americans,
Josef K,
Andrew Hill,
Mr. Review,
Duran Duran,
Crispian St. Peters,
Iggy Pop,
the Slits,
Patti Smith,
The Saints,
Mantronix,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Searchers,
Dorothy Ashby,
Morten Harket,
The Smoke,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Skatalites,
Ludus,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Moody Blues,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kaleidoscope,
Freddie Wadling,
The Birthday Party,
Depeche Mode,
The Martian,
Vainqueur,
Sexual Harrassment,
The American Breed,
The Detroit Cobras,
Siglo XX,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Robert Wyatt,
FM Einheit,
Glenn Branca,
Pulsallama,
Scrapy,
Surgeon,
The Moleskins,
Tommy Roe,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
LL Cool J,
In Retrospect,
Isaac Hayes,
Arab on Radar,
Livin' Joy,
Sam Rivers,
The Residents,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Offenders,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.