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 Kiribati and from Edmonton.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 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 CMW to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Gian Franco Pienzio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Toasters,
Joyce Sims,
Lightning Bolt,
Blancmange,
Goldenarms,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Unwound,
Glambeats Corp.,
Von Mondo,
Agent Orange,
Yaz,
Michelle Simonal,
Japan,
Minutemen,
Joe Smooth,
Pussy Galore,
Terry Callier,
A Certain Ratio,
Rakim,
The Associates,
Los Fastidios,
Ituana,
Minor Threat,
Lou Reed,
Heaven 17,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Boz Scaggs,
The Durutti Column,
Aaron Thompson,
Sister Nancy,
Marvin Gaye,
John Holt,
David Bowie,
Cymande,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Dirtbombs,
Ice-T,
Gastr Del Sol,
Audionom,
Supertramp,
The Leaves,
Ronan,
Fear,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bauhaus,
Little Man,
Cal Tjader,
Juan Atkins,
F. McDonald,
Crash Course in Science,
R.M.O.,
The Martian,
Pharoah Sanders,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Subhumans,
Dorothy Ashby,
Slave,
The Techniques,
Barry Ungar,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.