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 Suriname and from Cairo.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sparks. All the underground hits.
All Freddie Wadling tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barclay James Harvest record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Whodini record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Leaves,
DJ Style,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Terry Callier,
Ice-T,
The Fall,
Neu!,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
The Residents,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Clear Light,
Lakeside,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Wolf Eyes,
The Blackbyrds,
Aural Exciters,
The Alarm Clocks,
Susan Cadogan,
Sarah Menescal,
Barbara Tucker,
Hardrive,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Duran Duran,
The Mojo Men,
The Litter,
Lalann,
R.M.O.,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mo-Dettes,
Carl Craig,
Marcia Griffiths,
Spandau Ballet,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jeff Lynne,
Youth Brigade,
Warsaw,
D'Angelo,
X-101,
Organ,
Kenny Larkin,
Drexciya,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The American Breed,
Echospace,
CMW,
Alice Coltrane,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Buckinghams,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Deepchord,
Sex Pistols,
The Sound,
Boz Scaggs,
The Skatalites,
Robert Görl,
The Happenings,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ponytail,
Aloha Tigers,
Mary Jane Girls,
Con Funk Shun,
Public Enemy,
Connie Case,
Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby, Dorothy Ashby.
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.