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 Korea South and from Manchester.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Robert Hood to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Beau Brummels. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every UT 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mars record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wings,
The Slits,
The Offenders,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Seeds,
The Standells,
China Crisis,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pantaleimon,
Robert Wyatt,
the Slits,
Colin Newman,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sight & Sound,
The Skatalites,
Juan Atkins,
Aloha Tigers,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Traffic Nightmare,
John Lydon,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Duran Duran,
The Gun Club,
Godley & Creme,
The Cowsills,
Neu!,
Simply Red,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Visage,
The Gories,
Sun City Girls,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Das Ding,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Jeff Lynne,
Average White Band,
Delta 5,
The Music Machine,
The Dead C,
Organ,
the Human League,
The Buckinghams,
The Zeros,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Avey Tare,
Quando Quango,
Young Marble Giants,
Gerry Rafferty,
Bad Manners,
Anthony Braxton,
Lou Reed,
Bang On A Can,
Lyres,
Theoretical Girls,
The Searchers,
Audionom, Audionom, Audionom, Audionom.
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.