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 Dominican Republic and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Aswad to the jazz 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Cybotron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Divine Comedy,
The Angels of Light,
Subhumans,
Joe Finger,
Connie Case,
The Mojo Men,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Bobby Sherman,
The Knickerbockers,
Yellowson,
Maurizio,
Trumans Water,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Los Fastidios,
Albert Ayler,
Marvin Gaye,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Count Five,
Ituana,
Crash Course in Science,
Robert Görl,
Gregory Isaacs,
Procol Harum,
Mary Jane Girls,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Magazine,
The Neon Judgement,
Deadbeat,
John Foxx,
Eddi Front,
Peter and Kerry,
James White and The Blacks,
Eric Dolphy,
Wolf Eyes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Lou Christie,
Bootsy Collins,
Laurel Aitken,
Lightning Bolt,
Robert Wyatt,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Fela Kuti,
Black Moon,
David Axelrod,
Lungfish,
Wire,
Glenn Branca,
Au Pairs,
Blossom Toes,
Magma,
H. Thieme,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Wally Richardson,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Motorama,
Moby Grape,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Dead Boys,
Mission of Burma,
Japan,
Skarface,
Cecil Taylor,
Talk Talk,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.