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 Malawi and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 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 Ajijia Myrayebe to the rap 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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Toni Rubio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grauzone record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Fall,
New Age Steppers,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Black Dice,
Robert Görl,
The New Christs,
Fugazi,
La Düsseldorf,
Inner City,
Gabor Szabo,
Jesper Dahlback,
Crime,
The Misunderstood,
Smog,
Mr. Review,
Public Enemy,
Jandek,
This Heat,
Joyce Sims,
Crispy Ambulance,
Minutemen,
The Velvet Underground,
Joey Negro,
Radiopuhelimet,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Carl Craig,
The Star Department,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Scott Walker,
Donny Hathaway,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ultimate Spinach,
Marmalade,
Aaron Thompson,
Scientists,
The Victims,
Mandrill,
Liliput,
Shoche,
Alice Coltrane,
Kerrie Biddell,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Bill Wells,
Franke,
Slick Rick,
The Last Poets,
The Sonics,
Stiv Bators,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Blake Baxter,
James White and The Blacks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Mary Jane Girls,
Delta 5,
Bush Tetras,
London Community Gospel Choir,
The Human League,
The Music Machine,
Sixth Finger,
Animal Collective,
Scion,
The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed, The American Breed.
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.