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 Afghanistan and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Calgary.
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 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 David Bowie 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 Flipper 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 Bobbi Humphrey. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
James White and The Blacks,
Tubeway Army,
The Divine Comedy,
Swell Maps,
The Names,
Marvin Gaye,
Skaos,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Joy Division,
Max Romeo,
Dual Sessions,
Brass Construction,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Flipper,
Aural Exciters,
Skriet,
Gang Gang Dance,
Eve St. Jones,
Mantronix,
Terrestrial Tones,
OOIOO,
cv313,
Excepter,
Magma,
Johnny Clarke,
Deakin,
Massinfluence,
Heaven 17,
The Invisible,
Livin' Joy,
Ornette Coleman,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Urselle,
Sixth Finger,
Ralphi Rosario,
Prince Buster,
Bill Wells,
These Immortal Souls,
Animal Collective,
Big Daddy Kane,
Blossom Toes,
Absolute Body Control,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pylon,
Das Ding,
Surgeon,
The Neon Judgement,
John Coltrane,
Frankie Knuckles,
Johnny Osbourne,
T. Rex,
Archie Shepp,
The Tremeloes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Soft Machine,
Minutemen,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
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.