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 South Sudan and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1960 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Pretty Things to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Animal Collective. All the underground hits.
All Derrick Morgan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suburban Knight record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Absolute Body Control record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
The Durutti Column,
Harmonia,
Neu!,
Sister Nancy,
Audionom,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Barracudas,
Eden Ahbez,
Icehouse,
Josef K,
The Music Machine,
Flipper,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sly & The Family Stone,
It's A Beautiful Day,
the Slits,
Vladislav Delay,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Swell Maps,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Nils Olav,
Ludus,
Minny Pops,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Fugazi,
Severed Heads,
DJ Style,
Cheater Slicks,
Archie Shepp,
Scratch Acid,
Rufus Thomas,
The Smiths,
X-101,
The Happenings,
Minnie Riperton,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
John Lydon,
Wings,
Joey Negro,
Colin Newman,
The Black Dice,
Iggy Pop,
Isaac Hayes,
Max Romeo,
Rites of Spring,
Eric Copeland,
Eve St. Jones,
Chris Corsano,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Mad Mike,
Popol Vuh,
Infiniti,
Excepter,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Skatalites,
Sun City Girls,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Supertramp,
U.S. Maple,
The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party, The Birthday Party.
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.