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 Bhutan and from Houston.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 clarinet 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 The Selecter to the techno kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Al Stewart. All the underground hits.
All Aaron Thompson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every These Immortal Souls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quadrant record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Roxette,
Kevin Saunderson,
Fela Kuti,
Gabor Szabo,
Stetsasonic,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Nico,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Martian,
These Immortal Souls,
Max Romeo,
Pagans,
Nick Fraelich,
Bootsy Collins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Jesper Dahlback,
One Last Wish,
Brand Nubian,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
the Normal,
Dawn Penn,
The Smoke,
Warren Ellis,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pantytec,
Rakim,
The Index,
Hasil Adkins,
Minnie Riperton,
Metal Thangz,
Simply Red,
Cluster,
Eric Copeland,
Panda Bear,
Hot Snakes,
Television Personalities,
Spoonie Gee,
Scion,
Graham Central Station,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Subhumans,
Mars,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sister Nancy,
Ice-T,
Man Eating Sloth,
Youth Brigade,
The Selecter,
H. Thieme,
Y Pants,
Rosa Yemen,
Sight & Sound,
The New Christs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
CMW,
Jerry's Kids,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Golliwogs,
Brothers Johnson,
Jeru the Damaja,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.