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 Montenegro and from Bremen.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 oboe 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 The Techniques to the crunk 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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Urselle,
B.T. Express,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Television,
the Germs,
The Misunderstood,
Chrome,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Drexciya,
Babytalk,
Freddie Wadling,
Brick,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Tremeloes,
Altered Images,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mary Jane Girls,
Basic Channel,
Sex Pistols,
Agent Orange,
Wally Richardson,
Lebanon Hanover,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Minnie Riperton,
Sam Rivers,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Junior Murvin,
the Soft Cell,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Standells,
Rotary Connection,
The Happenings,
Susan Cadogan,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
These Immortal Souls,
Kerrie Biddell,
New Order,
Skarface,
Brass Construction,
The Black Dice,
Moby Grape,
Carl Craig,
Magma,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Joe Finger,
The Litter,
Siglo XX,
Davy DMX,
Crash Course in Science,
Derrick May,
Hardrive,
Tropical Tobacco,
Essential Logic,
Franke,
Suicide,
Aswad,
Judy Mowatt,
Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics, Eurythmics.
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.