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 Kiribati and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Niagra to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 La Düsseldorf. All the underground hits.
All Kayak tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Sherman,
DJ Style,
Gang Starr,
The Grass Roots,
Skarface,
Unrelated Segments,
Joey Negro,
Circle Jerks,
Bobby Womack,
Siglo XX,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Quantec,
The Fugs,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Nik Kershaw,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kenny Larkin,
Brass Construction,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fatback Band,
Terry Callier,
The Pretty Things,
Theoretical Girls,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Make Up,
Parry Music,
T.S.O.L.,
Traffic Nightmare,
the Bar-Kays,
Severed Heads,
Eli Mardock,
The Black Dice,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Los Fastidios,
The Leaves,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
H. Thieme,
Wings,
Moby Grape,
The Smoke,
Laurel Aitken,
Warren Ellis,
Duran Duran,
The Invisible,
Thompson Twins,
Blake Baxter,
Bob Dylan,
Deepchord,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Mojo Men,
Graham Central Station,
Scott Walker,
Ponytail,
Howard Jones,
Fela Kuti,
Ludus,
The Evens,
Subhumans,
Glenn Branca,
Marvin Gaye,
Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye, Crooked Eye.
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.