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 Barbados and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Names to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gong record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Black Dice record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers,
F. McDonald,
Saccharine Trust,
Minny Pops,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Crooked Eye,
Sugar Minott,
Kerrie Biddell,
Radio Birdman,
Roxette,
Masters at Work,
Jandek,
Robert Wyatt,
Pulsallama,
Buzzcocks,
The Motions,
Echospace,
The Mummies,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Blossom Toes,
Bizarre Inc.,
Neu!,
Minnie Riperton,
Cybotron,
Camouflage,
Dorothy Ashby,
The New Christs,
Easy Going,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Visage,
Joyce Sims,
Warren Ellis,
The Smoke,
The Techniques,
Curtis Mayfield,
Eric Dolphy,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
E-Dancer,
Thee Headcoats,
Crime,
Archie Shepp,
Ultravox,
Lungfish,
Public Enemy,
Silicon Teens,
Ludus,
Camberwell Now,
Boz Scaggs,
In Retrospect,
The Searchers,
DJ Style,
the Sonics,
Angry Samoans,
Bobby Byrd,
The Standells,
Tim Buckley,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kerri Chandler,
Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy, Scrapy.
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.