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 Zambia and from Salvador.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Susan Cadogan to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television Personalities record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Eve St. Jones,
Glambeats Corp.,
Idris Muhammad,
Johnny Osbourne,
Joensuu 1685,
Gang Green,
Easy Going,
Gang Gang Dance,
Banda Bassotti,
Neil Young,
Sällskapet,
Dorothy Ashby,
UT,
Accadde A,
Todd Rundgren,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scratch Acid,
Henry Cow,
Parry Music,
Shuggie Otis,
Man Parrish,
Cheater Slicks,
Das Ding,
Traffic Nightmare,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Wolf Eyes,
Sun Ra,
Junior Murvin,
Newcleus,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Warren Ellis,
Man Eating Sloth,
Andrew Hill,
Scion,
Jeru the Damaja,
Lindisfarne,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joy Division,
The Martian,
John Coltrane,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
the Swans,
Barrington Levy,
Steve Hackett,
Byron Stingily,
The Electric Prunes,
Minutemen,
Goldenarms,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kevin Saunderson,
Scientists,
Y Pants,
Iggy Pop,
Don Cherry,
Alice Coltrane,
New York Dolls,
Dawn Penn,
Bluetip,
Mantronix,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lee Hazlewood,
Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav, Nils Olav.
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.