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 Kyrgyzstan and from Columbus.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the snare 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 Byron Stingily to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Fad Gadget. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears 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 güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Trumans Water record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dorothy Ashby,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Monks,
The Sonics,
Monolake,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
UT,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Khruangbin,
Pussy Galore,
Buzzcocks,
Barrington Levy,
Piero Umiliani,
Man Parrish,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Flipper,
The Fugs,
Tim Buckley,
The Barracudas,
The Birthday Party,
AZ,
Amazonics,
Masters at Work,
Alton Ellis,
Bobby Sherman,
Bronski Beat,
Mission of Burma,
Ice-T,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Aural Exciters,
Negative Approach,
The Gap Band,
The Gladiators,
Big Daddy Kane,
Q65,
John Foxx,
Blake Baxter,
Bill Near,
The Grass Roots,
Japan,
Warsaw,
Susan Cadogan,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Ralphi Rosario,
Maleditus Sound,
Mark Hollis,
Rites of Spring,
One Last Wish,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Litter,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Toasters,
The Alarm Clocks,
David Bowie,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Chris & Cosey,
The Real Kids,
Junior Murvin,
Juan Atkins,
Sandy B,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.