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 Bangladesh and from Stockholm.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All The Cowsills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
Altered Images,
Bronski Beat,
ABC,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Funkadelic,
Jeff Lynne,
Echospace,
Index,
Ten City,
Make Up,
Eddi Front,
Agent Orange,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Don Cherry,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Sam Rivers,
Tubeway Army,
Janne Schatter,
AZ,
Joe Smooth,
The Smoke,
Whodini,
Deadbeat,
Gong,
Thee Headcoats,
Young Marble Giants,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Marine Girls,
Skaos,
Bob Dylan,
Minutemen,
Tropical Tobacco,
Half Japanese,
Byron Stingily,
The Smiths,
Reagan Youth,
Ludus,
Silicon Teens,
Cal Tjader,
The Last Poets,
This Heat,
Brand Nubian,
The Zeros,
The Flesh Eaters,
Hashim,
Prince Buster,
Swans,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Matthew Halsall,
The Dead C,
Lightning Bolt,
Bang On A Can,
Hoover,
Freddie Wadling,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Drive Like Jehu,
T. Rex,
Peter and Kerry,
Pere Ubu,
Crime, Crime, Crime, Crime.
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.