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 Qatar and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Eve St. Jones to the dance 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 Yazoo. All the underground hits.
All The Young Rascals tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Malaria!,
Bobby Byrd,
The Sonics,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Five Americans,
Rhythm & Sound,
The Golliwogs,
Theoretical Girls,
The Beau Brummels,
Smog,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Maurizio,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Swans,
Rakim,
Ultimate Spinach,
Curtis Mayfield,
The J.B.'s,
The Names,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Leaves,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Piero Umiliani,
Minnie Riperton,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marshall Jefferson,
The Standells,
Quantec,
Television Personalities,
Todd Terry,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Stooges,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Kas Product,
Harry Pussy,
David McCallum,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Nirvana,
Wire,
Gong,
Camberwell Now,
Roy Ayers,
Lakeside,
Fatback Band,
Subhumans,
Interpol,
the Slits,
Nick Fraelich,
Buzzcocks,
MDC,
Stiv Bators,
Yaz,
Y Pants,
Khruangbin,
David Axelrod,
DJ Style,
X-102,
Mars,
Boredoms,
Cecil Taylor,
Kerri Chandler,
Rufus Thomas,
Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill, Andrew Hill.
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.