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 Mexico and from Halifax.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Columbus.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Nick Fraelich to the grime 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 Interpol. All the underground hits.
All Throbbing Gristle tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Von Mondo 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric Copeland record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moleskins,
Black Moon,
Lightning Bolt,
Index,
The Blackbyrds,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Motions,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eddi Front,
Duran Duran,
Bad Manners,
Brick,
Visage,
Procol Harum,
The Cramps,
The Slackers,
Arthur Verocai,
The Black Dice,
Interpol,
Ken Boothe,
Crooked Eye,
The Saints,
The United States of America,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Public Image Ltd.,
Bobby Byrd,
Gang of Four,
Intrusion,
Thee Headcoats,
Harry Pussy,
Brothers Johnson,
a-ha,
T. Rex,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Soul II Soul,
The Slits,
The Modern Lovers,
Camberwell Now,
Oblivians,
Bang On A Can,
Liliput,
Smog,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Aural Exciters,
John Holt,
Kurtis Blow,
Joy Division,
Wire,
Black Pus,
Letta Mbulu,
Flash Fearless,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Beau Brummels,
Sparks,
The Gap Band,
Rufus Thomas,
Motorama,
Nik Kershaw,
Thompson Twins,
Malaria!,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.