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 Moldova and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 snare 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 Wally Richardson to the grunge 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 Scan 7. All the underground hits.
All Alton Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tommy Roe record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Standells,
Interpol,
Max Romeo,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Avey Tare,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Scrapy,
Boredoms,
X-102,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Move,
Jacques Brel,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ultra Naté,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Jerry's Kids,
Bill Wells,
Chris & Cosey,
the Association,
JFA,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Black Flag,
The Mojo Men,
The Misunderstood,
Chrome,
Television,
Icehouse,
Arcadia,
48th St. Collective,
Dawn Penn,
Yazoo,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Gap Band,
June of 44,
Glambeats Corp.,
Minny Pops,
The Slackers,
The Electric Prunes,
ABBA,
Section 25,
The Black Dice,
Crash Course in Science,
Kurtis Blow,
The Saints,
Faust,
Grauzone,
Howard Jones,
The Red Krayola,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Eric Dolphy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fad Gadget,
Smog,
Sonic Youth,
Bob Dylan,
Procol Harum,
Quando Quango,
Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes, Isaac Hayes.
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.