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 Australia and from Copenhagen.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 synthesizer 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the grime 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 the Swans. All the underground hits.
All 10cc tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Silicon Teens 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marshall Jefferson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Young Rascals,
The Smiths,
the Normal,
New Age Steppers,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mandrill,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Connie Case,
Liliput,
Ossler,
Judy Mowatt,
Mad Mike,
Ornette Coleman,
Faust,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kool Moe Dee,
Tommy Roe,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Yusef Lateef,
Bob Dylan,
The Divine Comedy,
The Skatalites,
Y Pants,
Barry Ungar,
Ralphi Rosario,
Little Man,
Camouflage,
Sonic Youth,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Nik Kershaw,
Marmalade,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Junior Murvin,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ultravox,
Cybotron,
Marine Girls,
Half Japanese,
The Real Kids,
Pharoah Sanders,
Byron Stingily,
Mark Hollis,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pussy Galore,
Circle Jerks,
This Heat,
Deadbeat,
The New Christs,
Peter and Kerry,
Arab on Radar,
Warren Ellis,
Subhumans,
Frankie Knuckles,
Faraquet,
Banda Bassotti,
R.M.O.,
the Human League,
Accadde A,
The Pretty Things,
The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics, The Sonics.
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.