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 Taiwan and from Woodstock.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 kango's stein massive to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Pantaleimon. All the underground hits.
All the Germs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Joensuu 1685,
Byron Stingily,
Kurtis Blow,
Faust,
The Trojans,
Wings,
Liliput,
D'Angelo,
Scion,
Crime,
Ornette Coleman,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Todd Rundgren,
Ronnie Foster,
Shoche,
T. Rex,
Spoonie Gee,
Connie Case,
Japan,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lou Christie,
Alice Coltrane,
Motorama,
The Slits,
Flipper,
Soul II Soul,
Patti Smith,
The Doobie Brothers,
OOIOO,
ABBA,
The Divine Comedy,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Swell Maps,
John Coltrane,
Pharoah Sanders,
Fear,
Glenn Branca,
Arab on Radar,
X-102,
Arthur Verocai,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
the Fania All-Stars,
Flash Fearless,
Warsaw,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Motions,
Rufus Thomas,
Wolf Eyes,
Skriet,
Public Image Ltd.,
Pole,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Technova,
Sugar Minott,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kool Moe Dee,
Livin' Joy,
Theoretical Girls,
Albert Ayler,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Althea and Donna,
Colin Newman,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.