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 Mozambique and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 guitar 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 Ohio Players to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Happenings. All the underground hits.
All Severed Heads tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Alarm Clocks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nas,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Leonard Cohen,
Marmalade,
Tubeway Army,
Sex Pistols,
Cecil Taylor,
Black Pus,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Curtis Mayfield,
Intrusion,
The Sound,
The Skatalites,
Bad Manners,
Rod Modell,
Nirvana,
The Beau Brummels,
Derrick Morgan,
Depeche Mode,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Qualms,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Real Kids,
Aaron Thompson,
The Litter,
Ituana,
The Techniques,
Sällskapet,
The Fugs,
Agent Orange,
DJ Sneak,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Throbbing Gristle,
Matthew Bourne,
Yellowson,
Stereo Dub,
Altered Images,
Pulsallama,
Reagan Youth,
Amazonics,
Danielle Patucci,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Japan,
Mission of Burma,
Wire,
The Slits,
Bill Wells,
Blossom Toes,
Eric Copeland,
Y Pants,
Neil Young,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Vainqueur,
JFA,
Brass Construction,
Mars, Mars, Mars, Mars.
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.