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 Estonia and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Minny Pops to the grunge 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Jimmy McGriff tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Von Mondo record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Delon & Dalcan,
Procol Harum,
Bush Tetras,
Blancmange,
Stereo Dub,
Bad Manners,
Pierre Henry,
Johnny Osbourne,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sun City Girls,
Malaria!,
Harmonia,
Byron Stingily,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Offenders,
Minnie Riperton,
Tom Boy,
the Slits,
Rekid,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Schoolly D,
Wings,
Leonard Cohen,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Dorothy Ashby,
Scrapy,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Busters,
Zapp,
The Grass Roots,
Thee Headcoats,
The Kinks,
Ronnie Foster,
Duran Duran,
Urselle,
Brass Construction,
The Gap Band,
Mark Hollis,
Young Marble Giants,
Robert Görl,
Josef K,
Unwound,
Sam Rivers,
Mr. Review,
Marshall Jefferson,
Can,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sister Nancy,
Soft Cell,
Albert Ayler,
Erasure,
Agent Orange,
Sexual Harrassment,
Crime,
Grauzone,
Yaz,
Man Parrish,
Rufus Thomas,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Con Funk Shun,
Hoover,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet, Radiopuhelimet.
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.