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 Malta and from Taipei.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 David Bowie 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 Crooked Eye to the electroclash 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brass Construction,
Cecil Taylor,
John Foxx,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sight & Sound,
The Flesh Eaters,
Rakim,
Jawbox,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mo-Dettes,
Altered Images,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Grey Daturas,
The Searchers,
Ornette Coleman,
Brand Nubian,
Niagra,
The Dirtbombs,
Morten Harket,
Jimmy McGriff,
Index,
The Skatalites,
Circle Jerks,
Cluster,
Bronski Beat,
Kaleidoscope,
The Leaves,
The Sonics,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Heaven 17,
Bobby Womack,
Roxette,
Surgeon,
Amon Düül,
B.T. Express,
Roy Ayers,
Pussy Galore,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nico,
John Cale,
Rhythm & Sound,
Eli Mardock,
Pylon,
The Star Department,
Marshall Jefferson,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
David Bowie,
Dennis Brown,
Marmalade,
Oblivians,
The Kinks,
Wolf Eyes,
The Slits,
The Neon Judgement,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lalo Schifrin,
Grandmaster Flash,
Minutemen,
The Sound,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.