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 Oman and from Edmonton.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 Nile Rodgers 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 Tim Buckley to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Porter Ricks. All the underground hits.
All Scott Walker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Wake record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Isaac Hayes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aaron Thompson,
Jerry's Kids,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Mandrill,
Pierre Henry,
Big Daddy Kane,
Buzzcocks,
Ponytail,
Funky Four + One,
The Neon Judgement,
Drive Like Jehu,
Gang Gang Dance,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jeff Lynne,
Terry Callier,
The Dead C,
ABBA,
Wings,
Colin Newman,
The Last Poets,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Warren Ellis,
Shoche,
Joyce Sims,
Das Ding,
Pagans,
Amon Düül,
Johnny Clarke,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Fortunes,
Loose Ends,
Wire,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Durutti Column,
The Sonics,
Goldenarms,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
AZ,
The Gladiators,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Siglo XX,
Scratch Acid,
The United States of America,
Black Pus,
Scan 7,
Underground Resistance,
Black Moon,
Blake Baxter,
Eden Ahbez,
The Dave Clark Five,
Cybotron,
Ultravox,
Rod Modell,
The Searchers,
Easy Going,
Marvin Gaye,
Gang of Four,
E-Dancer,
CMW,
Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!, Malaria!.
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.