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 Nauru and from Copenhagen.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Taipei.
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 Nile Rodgers 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 Dawn Penn to the rap 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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Maurizio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 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 Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang of Four,
Duran Duran,
Matthew Bourne,
Wings,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Schoolly D,
Black Bananas,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
F. McDonald,
Y Pants,
The Real Kids,
EPMD,
Bush Tetras,
Rites of Spring,
The Residents,
Al Stewart,
Television,
The Zeros,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Slackers,
Alice Coltrane,
Josef K,
Gil Scott Heron,
Ice-T,
Hot Snakes,
MC5,
Curtis Mayfield,
X-101,
The Red Krayola,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Derrick Morgan,
Depeche Mode,
Althea and Donna,
Sexual Harrassment,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Boz Scaggs,
The Count Five,
World's Most,
The Gun Club,
The Pop Group,
Swans,
Todd Rundgren,
Inner City,
Pagans,
Bill Wells,
H. Thieme,
a-ha,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Radiopuhelimet,
Little Man,
Rod Modell,
The Vogues,
Quando Quango,
Rakim,
T.S.O.L.,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bob Dylan,
Jerry's Kids,
Siglo XX,
The Trojans,
Carl Craig,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Joyce Sims,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.