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 Kuwait and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 Captain Beefheart 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 Lower 48 to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oppenheimer Analysis 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Manfred Mann's Earth Band record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Techniques,
the Human League,
The Evens,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ralphi Rosario,
Cluster,
LL Cool J,
Letta Mbulu,
Erykah Badu,
Make Up,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Index,
Oneida,
The Durutti Column,
UT,
Tropical Tobacco,
New Order,
Banda Bassotti,
JFA,
Jeff Mills,
Black Bananas,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Animal Collective,
Ultravox,
Amon Düül II,
Duran Duran,
Outsiders,
Motorama,
The Cure,
The Blues Magoos,
Deadbeat,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Stooges,
K-Klass,
Reuben Wilson,
The Saints,
The Divine Comedy,
Kurtis Blow,
Pole,
Ludus,
Anakelly,
Qualms,
Q and Not U,
Second Layer,
Matthew Halsall,
Alice Coltrane,
Nirvana,
Sällskapet,
Bush Tetras,
Jesper Dahlback,
Can,
Pussy Galore,
Crime,
PIL,
Drive Like Jehu,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Boogie Down Productions,
Grey Daturas,
John Lydon,
John Foxx,
Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day, Dark Day.
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.