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 Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Television Personalities 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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marcia Griffiths record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Symarip record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marmalade,
Lindisfarne,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Walker Brothers,
Tommy Roe,
Harmonia,
The Birthday Party,
Swell Maps,
Minor Threat,
Ohio Players,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Fatback Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Fluxion,
Aural Exciters,
The American Breed,
Prince Buster,
Freddie Wadling,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sarah Menescal,
Vladislav Delay,
Television Personalities,
The Seeds,
Soulsonic Force,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Surgeon,
The Cowsills,
The Tremeloes,
Brick,
Harry Pussy,
Henry Cow,
Rites of Spring,
Matthew Halsall,
New Age Steppers,
Deadbeat,
Banda Bassotti,
Isaac Hayes,
Kas Product,
F. McDonald,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Wally Richardson,
the Normal,
The Black Dice,
Ultimate Spinach,
Kevin Saunderson,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Robert Wyatt,
Yazoo,
Echospace,
Oneida,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Fear,
The Red Krayola,
Amon Düül II,
DJ Style,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sandy B,
Chrome,
Joy Division,
Hashim, Hashim, Hashim, Hashim.
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.