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 Palau and from Lyon.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 marimba 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 Glambeats Corp. to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Tears for Fears. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Symarip record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Eric Copeland,
The Victims,
Jerry Gold Smith,
X-102,
Nik Kershaw,
Wolf Eyes,
Gichy Dan,
Basic Channel,
New Order,
Whodini,
Idris Muhammad,
Rotary Connection,
Lee Hazlewood,
Kerrie Biddell,
Buzzcocks,
Andrew Hill,
Althea and Donna,
Sun Ra,
Crooked Eye,
Barclay James Harvest,
Guru Guru,
Yellowson,
Outsiders,
Prince Buster,
kango's stein massive,
Swans,
Flipper,
The Count Five,
James White and The Blacks,
Joyce Sims,
Aaron Thompson,
Laurel Aitken,
These Immortal Souls,
Slave,
OOIOO,
48th St. Collective,
Kayak,
New York Dolls,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Spandau Ballet,
Deepchord,
Matthew Bourne,
Khruangbin,
Bill Wells,
Q65,
Kaleidoscope,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Smiths,
Carl Craig,
the Normal,
Siglo XX,
China Crisis,
Camouflage,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gregory Isaacs,
Accadde A,
Flash Fearless,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
A Certain Ratio,
Glenn Branca,
Make Up,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.