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 Slovenia and from Milan.
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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Aaron Thompson to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Rites of Spring tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yusef Lateef record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 rhodes and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sad Lovers and Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
David Bowie,
Don Cherry,
Johnny Osbourne,
Fat Boys,
Jacob Miller,
Second Layer,
Sällskapet,
Tomorrow,
James White and The Blacks,
Ossler,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Searchers,
Half Japanese,
The Kinks,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Flesh Eaters,
EPMD,
Joey Negro,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Young Rascals,
Surgeon,
Magazine,
Patti Smith,
Black Pus,
World's Most,
David McCallum,
Erykah Badu,
Joensuu 1685,
Mad Mike,
Sun Ra,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Martian,
Lou Reed,
Glambeats Corp.,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Hot Snakes,
John Cale,
Vladislav Delay,
Icehouse,
T.S.O.L.,
Tres Demented,
Kerri Chandler,
Animal Collective,
Bill Wells,
The Saints,
K-Klass,
The Wake,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Q65,
Minnie Riperton,
Brand Nubian,
Smog,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lungfish,
Ultra Naté,
Erasure,
The Offenders,
Amon Düül II,
Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza, Eyeless In Gaza.
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.