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 Brunei and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 Taipei and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 güiro 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 Harry Pussy to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Reagan Youth. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Buckinghams 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Yusef Lateef,
Michelle Simonal,
Gong,
Subhumans,
Japan,
Moebius,
Tears for Fears,
Mo-Dettes,
Arcadia,
Unrelated Segments,
Scratch Acid,
L. Decosne,
The Walker Brothers,
Index,
Erykah Badu,
Urselle,
Jacob Miller,
Pylon,
Eve St. Jones,
The Doobie Brothers,
Nick Fraelich,
Siglo XX,
Ronnie Foster,
In Retrospect,
Duran Duran,
Connie Case,
Max Romeo,
Chrome,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Dead C,
Darondo,
New Age Steppers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Vladislav Delay,
Essential Logic,
Monolake,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Dark Day,
Electric Prunes,
The Star Department,
The Smoke,
Pagans,
Skaos,
Bluetip,
Fluxion,
H. Thieme,
Slave,
Henry Cow,
Simply Red,
Ten City,
Junior Murvin,
Marvin Gaye,
Joy Division,
T. Rex,
Kaleidoscope,
Con Funk Shun,
Jawbox,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Rekid,
Grandmaster Flash,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.