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 Senegal and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Monks to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Max Romeo. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terrestrial Tones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 guitar and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
The Smiths,
Malaria!,
The Flesh Eaters,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Kayak,
Slick Rick,
Maleditus Sound,
Adolescents,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fad Gadget,
Joensuu 1685,
Marmalade,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Idris Muhammad,
Scientists,
KRS-One,
The Birthday Party,
OOIOO,
Oblivians,
ABBA,
Scion,
Moby Grape,
Dennis Brown,
Jeff Lynne,
Swans,
Porter Ricks,
Pole,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Girls At Our Best!,
Brand Nubian,
Johnny Clarke,
Johnny Osbourne,
Harpers Bizarre,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Mr. Review,
Avey Tare,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Residents,
Bobby Sherman,
Lower 48,
Brass Construction,
FM Einheit,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lee Hazlewood,
Skarface,
Mantronix,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Misunderstood,
L. Decosne,
Jawbox,
The Wake,
The Gun Club,
Soul Sonic Force,
Black Sheep,
Derrick May,
The Mojo Men,
Moebius,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.