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 Kuwait and from London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Johannesburg.
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 rhodes 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 Man Eating Sloth to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Harpers Bizarre. All the underground hits.
All Leonard Cohen tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Juan Atkins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eli Mardock,
Bluetip,
Gregory Isaacs,
Terry Callier,
Ultravox,
Gichy Dan,
The Real Kids,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mad Mike,
Ultra Naté,
Reuben Wilson,
The Doobie Brothers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Average White Band,
Ice-T,
Isaac Hayes,
the Slits,
Underground Resistance,
Suicide,
Warsaw,
Newcleus,
Gerry Rafferty,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pantytec,
The Pretty Things,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
CMW,
Simply Red,
Rapeman,
The Fire Engines,
Lyres,
The Human League,
Jesper Dahlback,
X-Ray Spex,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Lakeside,
Pierre Henry,
Anakelly,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Blake Baxter,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Don Cherry,
Spoonie Gee,
the Bar-Kays,
Sam Rivers,
Prince Buster,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Searchers,
Nik Kershaw,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Toasters,
U.S. Maple,
The Detroit Cobras,
Radio Birdman,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Aural Exciters,
Anthony Braxton,
Byron Stingily,
Funkadelic,
Moebius, Moebius, Moebius, Moebius.
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.