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 Spain and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Basic Channel to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Rites of Spring tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fluxion,
The Smoke,
Lyres,
Whodini,
Sarah Menescal,
Joe Finger,
Adolescents,
Lower 48,
Brothers Johnson,
Wally Richardson,
The Cowsills,
Chrome,
F. McDonald,
Black Pus,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Thee Headcoats,
Crispy Ambulance,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Stiv Bators,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Prince Buster,
Blossom Toes,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jeru the Damaja,
Suicide,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Buckinghams,
Young Marble Giants,
Graham Central Station,
The Toasters,
The Dead C,
Jandek,
the Swans,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Blancmange,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Youth Brigade,
Hashim,
Jacob Miller,
Max Romeo,
Monolake,
The Saints,
The Beau Brummels,
Wolf Eyes,
Ken Boothe,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Searchers,
The Standells,
The Sound,
Minor Threat,
X-Ray Spex,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kurtis Blow,
Hot Snakes,
Radio Birdman,
Unwound,
Gil Scott Heron,
Shuggie Otis,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Walker Brothers,
Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily, Byron Stingily.
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.