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 Sweden and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 arpeggiator 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 Livin' Joy to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Oppenheimer Analysis. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rapeman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Prunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rakim,
Rapeman,
Josef K,
Interpol,
Hashim,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Cecil Taylor,
The Pop Group,
Glenn Branca,
Terry Callier,
Funky Four + One,
The Buckinghams,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Deepchord,
Hardrive,
New York Dolls,
Peter & Gordon,
Unwound,
Cal Tjader,
The Saints,
Erykah Badu,
Pylon,
Charles Mingus,
Al Stewart,
Vladislav Delay,
Scion,
Sam Rivers,
the Slits,
The Neon Judgement,
Gerry Rafferty,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Durutti Column,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Misunderstood,
KRS-One,
Blake Baxter,
Country Teasers,
Inner City,
Arcadia,
Terrestrial Tones,
Audionom,
Soft Machine,
Soulsonic Force,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Drexciya,
Lalann,
James White and The Blacks,
The Moody Blues,
Chris & Cosey,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Joe Finger,
Maleditus Sound,
Curtis Mayfield,
Matthew Bourne,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Grandmaster Flash,
Marc Almond,
Visage,
Black Bananas,
Piero Umiliani,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.