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 Gambia and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Slackers to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Idris Muhammad. All the underground hits.
All Metal Thangz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Joe & The Fish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cluster,
the Swans,
Warren Ellis,
Can,
The Raincoats,
a-ha,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Remains,
Fad Gadget,
Deepchord,
ABC,
Gang Gang Dance,
Suburban Knight,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
June of 44,
The Busters,
EPMD,
Rapeman,
The Selecter,
June Days,
Darondo,
Vladislav Delay,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Gories,
The Associates,
Buzzcocks,
Soft Machine,
Don Cherry,
Wings,
Chris & Cosey,
Glambeats Corp.,
Swans,
Gang Green,
The Last Poets,
B.T. Express,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Sight & Sound,
Bluetip,
Judy Mowatt,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Grass Roots,
The Red Krayola,
Clear Light,
The Dave Clark Five,
MC5,
The Music Machine,
Derrick May,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Intrusion,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Popol Vuh,
Andrew Hill,
Minor Threat,
The Names,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cal Tjader,
The Gladiators,
Whodini,
Stockholm Monsters,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.