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 Kenya and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Mumbai.
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 spring reverb 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 Monolake to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Freddie Wadling. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every FM Einheit record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jimmy McGriff,
Black Sheep,
Bill Near,
Newcleus,
DNA,
Sugar Minott,
Hardrive,
Mr. Review,
The Associates,
John Coltrane,
The Mummies,
Heaven 17,
Morten Harket,
Blake Baxter,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Residents,
Royal Trux,
The Saints,
A Certain Ratio,
The Kinks,
Silicon Teens,
The Music Machine,
The Smoke,
Bauhaus,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Smiths,
Gregory Isaacs,
Spandau Ballet,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Animal Collective,
Yusef Lateef,
Mandrill,
Drive Like Jehu,
Tubeway Army,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sight & Sound,
Can,
48th St. Collective,
Bush Tetras,
Cluster,
the Association,
Deepchord,
Con Funk Shun,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tim Buckley,
Pole,
The Alarm Clocks,
Wasted Youth,
Pantaleimon,
The Motions,
Fear,
The Modern Lovers,
Ornette Coleman,
Darondo,
Aural Exciters,
Neu!,
Nico,
Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne.
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.