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 Malaysia and from Johannesburg.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 oboe 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 Pulsallama to the dance 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marmalade 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bizarre Inc. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Foxx,
Zapp,
a-ha,
Half Japanese,
Bronski Beat,
Gabor Szabo,
Desert Stars,
Isaac Hayes,
The Mojo Men,
Rakim,
Mo-Dettes,
Accadde A,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Neon Judgement,
Nas,
Suburban Knight,
Yaz,
Radio Birdman,
June of 44,
John Lydon,
Fatback Band,
the Swans,
H. Thieme,
Kerrie Biddell,
Easy Going,
The Smoke,
Schoolly D,
Minny Pops,
The Toasters,
Marmalade,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Vogues,
Mr. Review,
Lucky Dragons,
The Cowsills,
The Wake,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Monochrome Set,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Big Daddy Kane,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Wasted Youth,
Oneida,
Tres Demented,
Rites of Spring,
Alison Limerick,
The Fortunes,
The Gun Club,
Graham Central Station,
Stetsasonic,
Minutemen,
The Techniques,
Bill Near,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Fela Kuti,
Rhythm & Sound,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Blossom Toes,
Boz Scaggs,
Ice-T,
Niagra,
Radiopuhelimet,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.