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 Jordan and from Glasgow.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 theremin 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 The American Breed to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vladislav Delay record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jacob Miller record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faraquet,
Brand Nubian,
Eric B and Rakim,
Hardrive,
Derrick May,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Wasted Youth,
Pere Ubu,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mr. Review,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
the Swans,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Bar-Kays,
Harpers Bizarre,
Al Stewart,
Eric Dolphy,
Eddi Front,
Slave,
Amon Düül,
Ice-T,
Soul Sonic Force,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Detroit Cobras,
Schoolly D,
Tim Buckley,
Lindisfarne,
Unwound,
John Holt,
Boredoms,
Jerry's Kids,
The J.B.'s,
Rod Modell,
Yazoo,
Darondo,
Wolf Eyes,
the Association,
Thee Headcoats,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Nils Olav,
Heaven 17,
Lee Hazlewood,
Agent Orange,
Cal Tjader,
Amazonics,
Camberwell Now,
Bad Manners,
The Red Krayola,
Davy DMX,
The Star Department,
Radiohead,
A Certain Ratio,
Organ,
Shoche,
Camouflage,
The Dead C,
In Retrospect,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Human League,
Robert Hood,
Carl Craig,
Wally Richardson,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.