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 Cape Verde and from Houston.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Piero Umiliani to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Crispian St. Peters. All the underground hits.
All Jacob Miller tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jerry's Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mary Jane Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Henry Cow,
Metal Thangz,
48th St. Collective,
Black Sheep,
Darondo,
Lungfish,
Rakim,
The Wake,
The Trojans,
Eve St. Jones,
Popol Vuh,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Rekid,
The American Breed,
Reuben Wilson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Mr. Review,
Joe Smooth,
Los Fastidios,
Pylon,
The Cosmic Jokers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Black Bananas,
T. Rex,
Wire,
Quadrant,
D'Angelo,
Todd Rundgren,
Nirvana,
Gregory Isaacs,
the Slits,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sonic Youth,
Bill Near,
Roxette,
Radio Birdman,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Simply Red,
Angry Samoans,
Section 25,
The Raincoats,
The Beau Brummels,
The Gladiators,
PIL,
The Searchers,
The Offenders,
Zapp,
Tomorrow,
Isaac Hayes,
Al Stewart,
Soul Sonic Force,
L. Decosne,
Crooked Eye,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lindisfarne,
Gastr Del Sol,
Second Layer,
The Young Rascals,
The Busters,
Aural Exciters,
The Pretty Things,
Cheater Slicks,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.