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 Papua New Guinea and from Paris.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 chamberlin 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 Harry Pussy to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Association 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grauzone record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Roy Ayers,
Nils Olav,
Khruangbin,
Arab on Radar,
Grey Daturas,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
R.M.O.,
Jimmy McGriff,
Graham Central Station,
Minutemen,
Barclay James Harvest,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Suicide,
David Axelrod,
The Buckinghams,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rakim,
A Certain Ratio,
Fear,
Aloha Tigers,
The Slackers,
The Smiths,
the Soft Cell,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Nation of Ulysses,
Harry Pussy,
Henry Cow,
Model 500,
Q65,
Animal Collective,
The Electric Prunes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Visage,
Bad Manners,
Tomorrow,
Ten City,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Siglo XX,
The Walker Brothers,
The Monochrome Set,
The Victims,
Wings,
The Smoke,
Lalann,
Kool Moe Dee,
Faust,
Alton Ellis,
The Tremeloes,
Ronan,
Donald Byrd,
The Mojo Men,
Chris Corsano,
The Grass Roots,
Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt, Robert Wyatt.
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.