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 Senegal and from Johannesburg.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Max Romeo 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cecil Taylor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Archie Shepp,
Crispian St. Peters,
Spoonie Gee,
Big Daddy Kane,
Stetsasonic,
Rhythm & Sound,
Hot Snakes,
Eve St. Jones,
Infiniti,
Scott Walker,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Toasters,
Gang Green,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bobby Sherman,
Bobbi Humphrey,
New York Dolls,
Jacques Brel,
Hoover,
Judy Mowatt,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Marine Girls,
Jimmy McGriff,
Thee Headcoats,
The Count Five,
Minor Threat,
Model 500,
Black Pus,
The Move,
Livin' Joy,
Monks,
Joy Division,
The Raincoats,
Das Ding,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Beau Brummels,
Accadde A,
June of 44,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Interpol,
U.S. Maple,
The Mojo Men,
Lightning Bolt,
Slick Rick,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Adolescents,
Sarah Menescal,
Eddi Front,
Crispy Ambulance,
David McCallum,
Underground Resistance,
Audionom,
Lalo Schifrin,
Funkadelic,
Mo-Dettes,
Television,
Parry Music,
The Slackers,
Youth Brigade,
Alphaville,
Darondo,
Lungfish,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.