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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Houston.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 oboe 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 Association to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Maleditus Sound. All the underground hits.
All Oblivians tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Reagan Youth,
Lucky Dragons,
Sam Rivers,
Deakin,
The Saints,
10cc,
In Retrospect,
Model 500,
Goldenarms,
Cabaret Voltaire,
One Last Wish,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Sound,
Frankie Knuckles,
Easy Going,
ABBA,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Godley & Creme,
The Fortunes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Panda Bear,
Anakelly,
Kaleidoscope,
David Bowie,
The Divine Comedy,
The United States of America,
The Moleskins,
The Doors,
Kerri Chandler,
Dorothy Ashby,
Tommy Roe,
The Walker Brothers,
Groovy Waters,
June of 44,
Half Japanese,
Fatback Band,
The Vogues,
Main Source,
Sun City Girls,
Ralphi Rosario,
Joey Negro,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Rufus Thomas,
Harry Pussy,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stiv Bators,
Can,
UT,
The Cure,
Avey Tare,
Das Ding,
Grey Daturas,
Public Enemy,
Flipper,
FM Einheit,
Essential Logic,
The Searchers,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Minny Pops,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.