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 Swaziland and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Rites of Spring to the jazz 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 Robert Wyatt. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terry Callier record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 a sitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neu!,
Vladislav Delay,
Roxette,
Royal Trux,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Blues Magoos,
Kayak,
The Buckinghams,
The Busters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Searchers,
Porter Ricks,
David Bowie,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Mark Hollis,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Fuzztones,
The Skatalites,
The Doobie Brothers,
Slick Rick,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Vogues,
Franke,
8 Eyed Spy,
Brothers Johnson,
Animal Collective,
Desert Stars,
Lalann,
Easy Going,
La Düsseldorf,
Organ,
The Martian,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Thee Headcoats,
Lucky Dragons,
Accadde A,
Boz Scaggs,
The Fortunes,
EPMD,
Tim Buckley,
Rotary Connection,
Robert Hood,
Grauzone,
Rapeman,
Marc Almond,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Derrick May,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fela Kuti,
Stiv Bators,
The Last Poets,
Cymande,
The Dave Clark Five,
T. Rex,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Monks,
Brand Nubian,
World's Most,
Von Mondo,
The Grass Roots,
Television Personalities,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane, Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane.
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.