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 Samoa and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Fire Engines to the dance kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Rhythim Is Rhythim. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Real Kids record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blackbyrds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Nirvana,
Bob Dylan,
Jandek,
Mars,
The Smoke,
Robert Wyatt,
The Mummies,
Banda Bassotti,
Talk Talk,
Dave Gahan,
Bobby Sherman,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Monks,
Scratch Acid,
Matthew Halsall,
Drive Like Jehu,
Fear,
B.T. Express,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Evens,
Bang On A Can,
Jeff Mills,
Rapeman,
The Birthday Party,
Alphaville,
Roger Hodgson,
The Martian,
Sarah Menescal,
Graham Central Station,
Jacques Brel,
Ultra Naté,
Duran Duran,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Selecter,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Donny Hathaway,
Minny Pops,
Delta 5,
Stereo Dub,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Smog,
Crooked Eye,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Qualms,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Flash Fearless,
Tommy Roe,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Warren Ellis,
Jawbox,
The Happenings,
Maurizio,
Eve St. Jones,
Icehouse,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
cv313,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mark Hollis,
Pharoah Sanders,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.