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 Switzerland and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Pussy Galore to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Sheep record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Niagra,
Symarip,
Grey Daturas,
Skriet,
Al Stewart,
Bluetip,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Fugazi,
The Zeros,
Chrome,
Silicon Teens,
Soulsonic Force,
Pantaleimon,
Urselle,
Cameo,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tim Buckley,
Tropical Tobacco,
Laurel Aitken,
The Beau Brummels,
Subhumans,
Nico,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Oblivians,
June of 44,
Monolake,
Pet Shop Boys,
Audionom,
The Young Rascals,
The Five Americans,
Bush Tetras,
The Invisible,
48th St. Collective,
Minor Threat,
Warren Ellis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Brass Construction,
Faust,
Brothers Johnson,
Andrew Hill,
Severed Heads,
Easy Going,
Rites of Spring,
Stiv Bators,
Parry Music,
Intrusion,
Eddi Front,
Magma,
Man Eating Sloth,
Jacques Brel,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Fortunes,
These Immortal Souls,
Index,
Outsiders,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Smiths,
Inner City,
Interpol,
The Skatalites,
Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach, Ultimate Spinach.
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.