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 Finland and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 mellotron 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 Robert Wyatt to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Marmalade. All the underground hits.
All The Cowsills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Neon Judgement,
Leonard Cohen,
Sugar Minott,
Television Personalities,
Lou Christie,
Ornette Coleman,
The Saints,
The Wake,
Zero Boys,
DJ Style,
Scott Walker,
Barclay James Harvest,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marcia Griffiths,
Eric Dolphy,
Pharoah Sanders,
Babytalk,
Fluxion,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dead Boys,
the Swans,
Lightning Bolt,
Frankie Knuckles,
Terry Callier,
Sam Rivers,
Tomorrow,
Basic Channel,
Matthew Bourne,
Das Ding,
Unwound,
Tubeway Army,
Fatback Band,
The Martian,
The Star Department,
The Motions,
The Flesh Eaters,
Boz Scaggs,
Swell Maps,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Residents,
John Coltrane,
Hasil Adkins,
Funky Four + One,
Robert Görl,
10cc,
The Blues Magoos,
Eurythmics,
Radio Birdman,
Skriet,
Jacob Miller,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Harry Pussy,
Simply Red,
Youth Brigade,
Black Moon,
Bill Wells,
Magma,
The Toasters,
Warsaw,
Mantronix,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.