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 East Timor and from Manila.
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 1968 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 snare 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 Ronan to the grime 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 Lebanon Hanover. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pantytec record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Frankie Knuckles,
Don Cherry,
Organ,
Pagans,
The Blackbyrds,
Wolf Eyes,
Throbbing Gristle,
Graham Central Station,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Tom Boy,
Al Stewart,
Steve Hackett,
Minnie Riperton,
Gang Gang Dance,
Clear Light,
Skarface,
Absolute Body Control,
Main Source,
Anakelly,
Mission of Burma,
Sam Rivers,
Fugazi,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sparks,
Aswad,
Severed Heads,
The New Christs,
Bronski Beat,
JFA,
Adolescents,
K-Klass,
The Litter,
The Walker Brothers,
Wally Richardson,
Rod Modell,
Cecil Taylor,
Negative Approach,
Bad Manners,
Davy DMX,
Roger Hodgson,
The Golliwogs,
Saccharine Trust,
Tropical Tobacco,
Scratch Acid,
Moss Icon,
The Standells,
Sun Ra,
Laurel Aitken,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Urselle,
The Evens,
Average White Band,
Agitation Free,
Zapp,
Mandrill,
Sonic Youth,
Maurizio,
Alton Ellis,
Bang On A Can,
Bluetip,
Rapeman,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
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.