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 Montenegro and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Girls At Our Best! to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Rahsaan Roland Kirk. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Sisters of Mercy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a La Düsseldorf record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
Moss Icon,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Average White Band,
Inner City,
F. McDonald,
Intrusion,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Fuzztones,
Crooked Eye,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Darondo,
Curtis Mayfield,
Lou Reed,
Rufus Thomas,
The Blues Magoos,
Brass Construction,
Fela Kuti,
John Lydon,
Marmalade,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Amon Düül,
Organ,
The Misunderstood,
The Martian,
June Days,
Simply Red,
The Buckinghams,
Roger Hodgson,
Sunsets and Hearts,
These Immortal Souls,
Erykah Badu,
Minny Pops,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bad Manners,
Y Pants,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Kayak,
The Detroit Cobras,
Lungfish,
Arthur Verocai,
the Swans,
Bobby Byrd,
The Happenings,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gong,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Joyce Sims,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Stooges,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Alice Coltrane,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Nik Kershaw,
John Cale,
Interpol,
Ultra Naté,
Nation of Ulysses,
Max Romeo,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.