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 Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Charles Mingus to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Terrestrial Tones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Simply Red record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nik Kershaw,
Colin Newman,
The Associates,
The Toasters,
H. Thieme,
Lucky Dragons,
Eurythmics,
Pole,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Brand Nubian,
Tubeway Army,
Scion,
Sight & Sound,
Porter Ricks,
Avey Tare,
Laurel Aitken,
Joe Finger,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Glenn Branca,
DJ Style,
Interpol,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
DJ Sneak,
Piero Umiliani,
Moebius,
Surgeon,
The Monochrome Set,
Ronan,
Carl Craig,
Jacob Miller,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sugar Minott,
Darondo,
Alison Limerick,
The Doobie Brothers,
Soul II Soul,
The Blackbyrds,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Black Pus,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kevin Saunderson,
Lindisfarne,
Sister Nancy,
Tropical Tobacco,
the Slits,
Sam Rivers,
Pere Ubu,
Shuggie Otis,
The Divine Comedy,
The Grass Roots,
Black Bananas,
Essential Logic,
Swell Maps,
Jeru the Damaja,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Pantaleimon,
The Raincoats,
Malaria!,
Wire,
Qualms,
Jimmy McGriff,
James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks, James White and The Blacks.
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.