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 Burkina and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Vladislav Delay to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band. All the underground hits.
All Bobbi Humphrey tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gil Scott Heron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Little Man,
Wings,
Wire,
Robert Hood,
Rosa Yemen,
Tres Demented,
David McCallum,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Alice Coltrane,
The Red Krayola,
Nils Olav,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
X-Ray Spex,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sonny Sharrock,
Crispy Ambulance,
Tropical Tobacco,
Reagan Youth,
Infiniti,
Harmonia,
Saccharine Trust,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Donald Byrd,
Guru Guru,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rites of Spring,
The Durutti Column,
Bobby Byrd,
AZ,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Johnny Clarke,
Kerri Chandler,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Malaria!,
Radio Birdman,
Gang Green,
Byron Stingily,
Deakin,
John Coltrane,
Sällskapet,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Blues Magoos,
Altered Images,
Underground Resistance,
Brand Nubian,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Fatback Band,
Glambeats Corp.,
Inner City,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Vainqueur,
Mo-Dettes,
Chrome,
Unrelated Segments,
Barry Ungar,
Bronski Beat,
T.S.O.L.,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.