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 South Sudan and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the rock 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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All Model 500 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Count Five,
These Immortal Souls,
The Cowsills,
Laurel Aitken,
Panda Bear,
David Bowie,
Harmonia,
Qualms,
Joensuu 1685,
Erykah Badu,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Sonic Youth,
Avey Tare,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Invisible,
Eric Dolphy,
Fear,
Maurizio,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Little Man,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
This Heat,
Agent Orange,
Bush Tetras,
Wings,
Connie Case,
The Five Americans,
Curtis Mayfield,
Blake Baxter,
The Gun Club,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Spoonie Gee,
Stockholm Monsters,
Monks,
Kas Product,
The Beau Brummels,
Angry Samoans,
X-101,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bobby Sherman,
Rhythm & Sound,
Shoche,
The Knickerbockers,
Con Funk Shun,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Heaven 17,
The Residents,
Scan 7,
Neu!,
Arab on Radar,
Stiv Bators,
Fluxion,
Gang Starr,
The Victims,
Pierre Henry,
Pantytec,
Dead Boys,
Soul Sonic Force,
Scion,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.