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 Cambodia and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 organ 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the grunge 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 The Moody Blues. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nils Olav 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a These Immortal Souls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pylon,
Rekid,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Mission of Burma,
Fear,
Khruangbin,
Faust,
New Age Steppers,
U.S. Maple,
Hot Snakes,
Amon Düül II,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Grandmaster Flash,
Gang of Four,
Eric Dolphy,
Harry Pussy,
Mars,
Sällskapet,
Organ,
Reuben Wilson,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Slick Rick,
Ronnie Foster,
Country Teasers,
Robert Hood,
Archie Shepp,
Gil Scott Heron,
T. Rex,
Rod Modell,
Second Layer,
Girls At Our Best!,
Byron Stingily,
The Cowsills,
The Mummies,
The Smiths,
Cymande,
Chrome,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bluetip,
The Saints,
Youth Brigade,
Radio Birdman,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Joyce Sims,
Electric Prunes,
Eli Mardock,
Fatback Band,
The Buckinghams,
Half Japanese,
Nico,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Ice-T,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
The Real Kids,
The Pretty Things,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood, The Misunderstood.
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.