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 Palau and from Portland.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 spring reverb 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 Mission of Burma to the disco 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 James White and The Blacks. All the underground hits.
All Babytalk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lebanon Hanover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Youth Brigade,
Marshall Jefferson,
Procol Harum,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Nick Fraelich,
Quantec,
Mantronix,
New Age Steppers,
Minor Threat,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Grass Roots,
The Divine Comedy,
Sister Nancy,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Barclay James Harvest,
Ice-T,
Intrusion,
Electric Prunes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Black Sheep,
Howard Jones,
June Days,
Toni Rubio,
D'Angelo,
Motorama,
Marc Almond,
John Foxx,
Monolake,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Durutti Column,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Move,
Dead Boys,
Whodini,
The Residents,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The American Breed,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bluetip,
Heaven 17,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pylon,
KRS-One,
Jacques Brel,
Sugar Minott,
Ronnie Foster,
Soulsonic Force,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cameo,
Shoche,
James Chance & The Contortions,
X-101,
Severed Heads,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Doobie Brothers,
DJ Style,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Trumans Water,
Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B, Sandy B.
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.