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 Sudan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 Calgary and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 guitar 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 Anthony Braxton 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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All Pharoah Sanders tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yusef Lateef record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Monks,
The Human League,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The United States of America,
This Heat,
Mark Hollis,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Surgeon,
Negative Approach,
The Gun Club,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
June Days,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bobby Sherman,
Junior Murvin,
Eric B and Rakim,
Joy Division,
Scion,
The Sonics,
Cameo,
Flipper,
Gang Starr,
Ultravox,
Loose Ends,
Harpers Bizarre,
Faraquet,
The Remains,
Gong,
Mars,
Rufus Thomas,
Joensuu 1685,
Chrome,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Barry Ungar,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Country Joe & The Fish,
X-Ray Spex,
Pole,
Deadbeat,
Jawbox,
The Misunderstood,
Public Enemy,
Crime,
Anakelly,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Gabor Szabo,
Franke,
F. McDonald,
Can,
Outsiders,
The Modern Lovers,
Wire,
Sexual Harrassment,
Smog,
Morten Harket,
Albert Ayler,
Television Personalities,
One Last Wish,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Five Americans,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.