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 Dominica and from New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 June of 44 to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Cowsills. All the underground hits.
All Erykah Badu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ajijia Myrayebe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fat Boys record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
Outsiders,
Inner City,
Rufus Thomas,
One Last Wish,
The Residents,
the Germs,
Cymande,
Suicide,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Eve St. Jones,
Zero Boys,
Cameo,
John Coltrane,
Crispy Ambulance,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Grauzone,
Average White Band,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Kinks,
Maleditus Sound,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Bill Wells,
The Electric Prunes,
Stiv Bators,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Depeche Mode,
Guru Guru,
Robert Hood,
The New Christs,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cheater Slicks,
Dorothy Ashby,
Talk Talk,
Basic Channel,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Sex Pistols,
Intrusion,
Matthew Bourne,
Anthony Braxton,
Camberwell Now,
The Raincoats,
Morten Harket,
The Busters,
Alison Limerick,
Crooked Eye,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Sonics,
Tommy Roe,
Faust,
Lower 48,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Black Dice,
Ken Boothe,
Rites of Spring,
Sun City Girls,
OOIOO,
The Move,
Simply Red,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.