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 Germany and from Houston.
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 1963 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 chamberlin 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 Brothers Johnson to the rap 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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All The Smiths tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harpers Bizarre 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers 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?
Lucky Dragons,
Los Fastidios,
Scratch Acid,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Derrick May,
The Fall,
Bang On A Can,
Wasted Youth,
Unwound,
MDC,
Nation of Ulysses,
Sam Rivers,
Funkadelic,
D'Angelo,
Cal Tjader,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Jacob Miller,
Heaven 17,
Con Funk Shun,
Tommy Roe,
Pharoah Sanders,
Section 25,
The New Christs,
The Saints,
The Gun Club,
Blossom Toes,
Patti Smith,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Cameo,
Ludus,
Whodini,
Fad Gadget,
The Real Kids,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Minor Threat,
Half Japanese,
Quantec,
T. Rex,
Robert Wyatt,
The Busters,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Buckinghams,
Roxette,
Bob Dylan,
Lightning Bolt,
Subhumans,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Mummies,
Eli Mardock,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Eyeless In Gaza,
the Swans,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Selecter,
Zapp,
Peter and Kerry,
Organ,
Soul Sonic Force,
Das Ding,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Stetsasonic,
Marcia Griffiths,
Wire, Wire, Wire, Wire.
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.