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 Pakistan and from Accra.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Jandek to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Nico. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work 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 electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Martian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Litter,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Duran Duran,
Crispy Ambulance,
Robert Görl,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Guru Guru,
F. McDonald,
Depeche Mode,
Rufus Thomas,
Outsiders,
Chrome,
Dorothy Ashby,
Surgeon,
Talk Talk,
Lyres,
The Saints,
The Divine Comedy,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Soft Cell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Invisible,
The Star Department,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
R.M.O.,
Unwound,
World's Most,
Rosa Yemen,
Average White Band,
The Dave Clark Five,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pole,
Sonny Sharrock,
Whodini,
Delta 5,
Boogie Down Productions,
U.S. Maple,
Malaria!,
Bauhaus,
Mandrill,
Sexual Harrassment,
Goldenarms,
Absolute Body Control,
Todd Rundgren,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Hashim,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Zeros,
Tropical Tobacco,
Y Pants,
Alice Coltrane,
B.T. Express,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Banda Bassotti,
Traffic Nightmare,
FM Einheit,
The Tremeloes,
Fluxion,
The Fugs,
These Immortal Souls,
The Evens,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.