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 Grenada and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 theremin 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 Albert Ayler to the punk 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 Pantytec. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Notorious Big And Bone Thugs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Boz Scaggs,
Zapp,
Steve Hackett,
The Mummies,
Gichy Dan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mission of Burma,
Average White Band,
Hot Snakes,
Ten City,
Scientists,
Kerri Chandler,
Trumans Water,
The Selecter,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bobby Sherman,
The Gun Club,
Sugar Minott,
Erykah Badu,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kenny Larkin,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Divine Comedy,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Heaven 17,
The Star Department,
ABBA,
Wings,
PIL,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Grauzone,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Stiv Bators,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Skaos,
The Gladiators,
CMW,
Graham Central Station,
Tears for Fears,
Barry Ungar,
X-101,
Warsaw,
Lou Reed,
Easy Going,
Ralphi Rosario,
Max Romeo,
The Barracudas,
Intrusion,
Brand Nubian,
Fifty Foot Hose,
A Certain Ratio,
Kayak,
Yazoo,
Barclay James Harvest,
Thompson Twins,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Walker Brothers,
Johnny Clarke,
The Toasters,
The Human League,
Goldenarms,
Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish, Country Joe & The Fish.
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.