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 Panama and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 clarinet 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 Monolake to the crunk 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 The United States of America. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mad Mike record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Joensuu 1685,
Stockholm Monsters,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Five Americans,
Crispy Ambulance,
Absolute Body Control,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Banda Bassotti,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Gil Scott Heron,
Alton Ellis,
Al Stewart,
Matthew Bourne,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Swans,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tommy Roe,
Icehouse,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Divine Comedy,
Suicide,
Joe Finger,
The Moleskins,
The Sonics,
a-ha,
Reuben Wilson,
Arcadia,
Tom Boy,
Fat Boys,
Isaac Hayes,
Ossler,
ABC,
The Count Five,
David Axelrod,
Deakin,
Reagan Youth,
Lakeside,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
MDC,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Surgeon,
Bad Manners,
Mission of Burma,
Soft Machine,
Sixth Finger,
Thee Headcoats,
The Evens,
Davy DMX,
Crispian St. Peters,
Stereo Dub,
Spoonie Gee,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Birthday Party,
The Index,
June Days,
Avey Tare,
Jandek,
Y Pants,
Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig, Carl Craig.
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.