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 Sri Lanka and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Gregory Isaacs to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Brick. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lightning Bolt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Kool Moe Dee,
8 Eyed Spy,
Harpers Bizarre,
Todd Rundgren,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Grauzone,
Silicon Teens,
Hot Snakes,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Wally Richardson,
Khruangbin,
Man Parrish,
Derrick May,
Rhythm & Sound,
Newcleus,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Wasted Youth,
Maurizio,
Pulsallama,
Gastr Del Sol,
Warsaw,
Carl Craig,
The Residents,
Duran Duran,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Alarm Clocks,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Soft Machine,
Underground Resistance,
Agent Orange,
Excepter,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Amazonics,
Steve Hackett,
Grey Daturas,
Ice-T,
The Cowsills,
Altered Images,
X-101,
The Flesh Eaters,
Joey Negro,
10cc,
Lightning Bolt,
The Music Machine,
Average White Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Youth Brigade,
Bob Dylan,
The Kinks,
This Heat,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Pagans,
Terry Callier,
Nation of Ulysses,
Warren Ellis,
Groovy Waters,
Simply Red,
Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker, Barbara Tucker.
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.