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 Kyrgyzstan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 Salvador and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Black Sheep to the electroclash 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 Magazine. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lee Hazlewood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Joey Negro,
Second Layer,
Monks,
Leonard Cohen,
Soulsonic Force,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Max Romeo,
Throbbing Gristle,
the Sonics,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Maurizio,
Underground Resistance,
Black Moon,
The Star Department,
Reagan Youth,
The Motions,
Tubeway Army,
Jacob Miller,
Morten Harket,
The Kinks,
Anakelly,
Au Pairs,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Jerry's Kids,
Dead Boys,
Juan Atkins,
Fad Gadget,
E-Dancer,
The Residents,
John Foxx,
H. Thieme,
Sixth Finger,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Funky Four + One,
Sparks,
Public Enemy,
Lucky Dragons,
The Slits,
The Blues Magoos,
Minnie Riperton,
Eric B and Rakim,
Lindisfarne,
Oblivians,
Vladislav Delay,
Donny Hathaway,
R.M.O.,
The Index,
The Slackers,
10cc,
The Skatalites,
FM Einheit,
the Bar-Kays,
Pole,
Soul II Soul,
Alice Coltrane,
Sarah Menescal,
Mr. Review,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.