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 Namibia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the funk 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All FM Einheit tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Can 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magazine,
Ponytail,
Gerry Rafferty,
ABBA,
Drive Like Jehu,
Marcia Griffiths,
Amon Düül,
the Fania All-Stars,
Crispy Ambulance,
X-Ray Spex,
Sister Nancy,
Gang Green,
Iggy Pop,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Count Five,
Crash Course in Science,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Searchers,
Reagan Youth,
Index,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rakim,
Youth Brigade,
The Mojo Men,
The Fall,
The Toasters,
the Association,
Wire,
Fluxion,
Hasil Adkins,
Sällskapet,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Radiohead,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Fad Gadget,
Bill Wells,
Scott Walker,
Scion,
Yusef Lateef,
Dave Gahan,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Lyres,
Little Man,
Stereo Dub,
Soft Cell,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Motorama,
The Mummies,
Sam Rivers,
Skarface,
The Five Americans,
Icehouse,
Roxy Music,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Man Eating Sloth,
Livin' Joy,
Rotary Connection,
The Electric Prunes,
Lower 48,
Rites of Spring,
Procol Harum,
Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music, Parry Music.
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.