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 Yemen and from Mumbai.
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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 chamberlin 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 The Buckinghams to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Soul Sonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlback,
Desert Stars,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Martian,
Joe Finger,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Animal Collective,
Wally Richardson,
Country Teasers,
Sarah Menescal,
Shoche,
Jeru the Damaja,
Trumans Water,
Byron Stingily,
Funky Four + One,
Lower 48,
Marmalade,
Aaron Thompson,
Urselle,
The Dirtbombs,
The Blackbyrds,
The Searchers,
Bluetip,
Spandau Ballet,
EPMD,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Cowsills,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
New York Dolls,
The Last Poets,
the Normal,
The Cosmic Jokers,
T.S.O.L.,
Tommy Roe,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Monks,
The Music Machine,
Fifty Foot Hose,
DNA,
Make Up,
Rufus Thomas,
The Buckinghams,
Marine Girls,
The Leaves,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jacques Brel,
Lucky Dragons,
Faraquet,
Flipper,
Television,
Q65,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ituana,
Pantytec,
The Invisible,
Pierre Henry,
The Dead C,
Simply Red,
The Real Kids,
Black Pus,
Don Cherry,
The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band, The Chocolate Watch Band.
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.