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 Ecuador and from Johannesburg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Cosmic Jokers to the grime 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 Standells. All the underground hits.
All Michelle Simonal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Subhumans 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Reuben Wilson 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?
Animal Collective,
ABBA,
Dead Boys,
Peter & Gordon,
Michelle Simonal,
Gang of Four,
Black Pus,
Mark Hollis,
The Buckinghams,
Brand Nubian,
Iggy Pop,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Niagra,
Desert Stars,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Pretty Things,
The Red Krayola,
Alice Coltrane,
Bobby Byrd,
Aswad,
Excepter,
Toni Rubio,
Flipper,
Eric Copeland,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Angels of Light,
Barry Ungar,
Spoonie Gee,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
John Cale,
Ronnie Foster,
The Electric Prunes,
Dave Gahan,
Kevin Saunderson,
Al Stewart,
Johnny Clarke,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Amazonics,
Grandmaster Flash,
Visage,
The Dave Clark Five,
48th St. Collective,
Fad Gadget,
Yazoo,
Urselle,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Mojo Men,
The American Breed,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Erasure,
Oneida,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Scion,
Silicon Teens,
Panda Bear,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Black Bananas,
Television,
Technova,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Happenings,
Ultra Naté,
Idris Muhammad,
Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano, Chris Corsano.
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.