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 Hungary and from Houston.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 oboe 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 Eric B and Rakim to the rock 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 The Pop Group. All the underground hits.
All 10cc tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kool G Rap & DJ Polo 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Motorama record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
Tomorrow,
Eddi Front,
Dorothy Ashby,
Inner City,
The New Christs,
Underground Resistance,
Little Man,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Motions,
The Birthday Party,
The Slits,
cv313,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nik Kershaw,
UT,
Monks,
Minutemen,
F. McDonald,
Brass Construction,
Skarface,
Bobby Sherman,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Residents,
Soulsonic Force,
Agent Orange,
X-101,
The Toasters,
Rotary Connection,
Radio Birdman,
Pulsallama,
Camouflage,
the Swans,
Rosa Yemen,
Roxy Music,
The Mojo Men,
The Fuzztones,
KRS-One,
The Fire Engines,
Fear,
Glenn Branca,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Names,
the Association,
Jandek,
Skaos,
Aswad,
Aural Exciters,
Sandy B,
Minor Threat,
The Invisible,
Vainqueur,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Neon Judgement,
Scion,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kayak,
Severed Heads,
Flamin' Groovies,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Divine Comedy,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.