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 Austria and from Bologna.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 marimba 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 Goldenarms to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Pussy Galore. All the underground hits.
All The Litter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roxy Music record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 808 and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lyres record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Severed Heads,
Cal Tjader,
Reagan Youth,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sight & Sound,
Procol Harum,
Bobby Womack,
Circle Jerks,
The Birthday Party,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Negative Approach,
The Seeds,
Glenn Branca,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Walker Brothers,
Crooked Eye,
Ossler,
Traffic Nightmare,
Sixth Finger,
The Fortunes,
Bad Manners,
Sam Rivers,
Easy Going,
K-Klass,
Parry Music,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Brand Nubian,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Germs,
Echospace,
The Blues Magoos,
Idris Muhammad,
Newcleus,
The Durutti Column,
Ultra Naté,
Sun City Girls,
Terry Callier,
Schoolly D,
New Age Steppers,
Whodini,
Gang Green,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Black Dice,
Quando Quango,
Joe Finger,
The Blackbyrds,
Joyce Sims,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Eric B and Rakim,
Eli Mardock,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Motorama,
Cybotron,
Rites of Spring,
The Smoke,
Blake Baxter,
Rakim,
Erasure,
Audionom,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.