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 Somalia and from London.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 David Bowie 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 Severed Heads to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Grey Daturas. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Walker Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a H. Thieme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Don Cherry,
The Busters,
Vainqueur,
Girls At Our Best!,
B.T. Express,
Pharoah Sanders,
Eli Mardock,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ralphi Rosario,
Archie Shepp,
Cluster,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sällskapet,
New Order,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
A Certain Ratio,
Radio Birdman,
Ken Boothe,
Scratch Acid,
The Smoke,
Eve St. Jones,
Youth Brigade,
The J.B.'s,
Harpers Bizarre,
Pylon,
MC5,
Niagra,
Shuggie Otis,
Flash Fearless,
Fela Kuti,
Gang Starr,
The American Breed,
Zapp,
Delta 5,
Nico,
Scientists,
Robert Wyatt,
Fugazi,
The Flesh Eaters,
DJ Sneak,
Mission of Burma,
CMW,
8 Eyed Spy,
Easy Going,
Nation of Ulysses,
Alice Coltrane,
Kerri Chandler,
Swans,
Ohio Players,
Judy Mowatt,
The Moleskins,
Gregory Isaacs,
Jawbox,
Infiniti,
John Coltrane,
Mars,
The Misunderstood,
Lou Christie,
Das Ding,
Tim Buckley,
10cc, 10cc, 10cc, 10cc.
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.