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 El Salvador and from Madrid.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 H. Thieme to the grunge 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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Chris Corsano tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every June of 44 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 harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Carl Craig,
Donald Byrd,
Jawbox,
Joey Negro,
Kerri Chandler,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Vainqueur,
The Five Americans,
Dawn Penn,
Sun Ra,
Sonic Youth,
David McCallum,
The Fall,
the Sonics,
Faraquet,
H. Thieme,
JFA,
The Detroit Cobras,
Tom Boy,
Liliput,
John Coltrane,
Kurtis Blow,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Monks,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Bob Dylan,
The Zeros,
the Swans,
Althea and Donna,
Juan Atkins,
Au Pairs,
Girls At Our Best!,
Rapeman,
The Slackers,
Wire,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Doors,
Steve Hackett,
Saccharine Trust,
The Neon Judgement,
Rekid,
Cal Tjader,
Animal Collective,
This Heat,
The Barracudas,
John Foxx,
Drexciya,
8 Eyed Spy,
Thompson Twins,
Black Flag,
The Residents,
the Fania All-Stars,
Little Man,
Sex Pistols,
Letta Mbulu,
Joe Smooth,
The Tremeloes,
The Toasters,
Maleditus Sound,
Groovy Waters,
The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones, The Fuzztones.
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.