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 Mauritius and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 snare 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 The Slits to the funk 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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All The Wake tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-101 record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
Monolake,
KRS-One,
Fat Boys,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Lungfish,
The Mummies,
Scrapy,
Drexciya,
The Detroit Cobras,
Boogie Down Productions,
Franke,
Mark Hollis,
Dave Gahan,
Das Ding,
Angry Samoans,
Thee Headcoats,
Motorama,
Livin' Joy,
The Smiths,
One Last Wish,
Zero Boys,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
T. Rex,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Trojans,
Susan Cadogan,
Accadde A,
Adolescents,
Piero Umiliani,
The Five Americans,
Royal Trux,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jandek,
Barclay James Harvest,
Morten Harket,
Con Funk Shun,
The Vogues,
DJ Sneak,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Bar-Kays,
Henry Cow,
The Slits,
U.S. Maple,
Brothers Johnson,
The Gories,
Rekid,
Gichy Dan,
The Blues Magoos,
Neu!,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Shuggie Otis,
Swell Maps,
Ten City,
The Remains,
8 Eyed Spy,
Charles Mingus,
Jeff Lynne,
Black Bananas,
Ponytail,
Lakeside,
These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls, These Immortal Souls.
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.