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 Uruguay and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 sitar 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 punk 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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Q65 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Soul Sonic Force,
Steve Hackett,
John Foxx,
Masters at Work,
The Index,
Carl Craig,
KRS-One,
Aaron Thompson,
Swell Maps,
R.M.O.,
Quando Quango,
Jacob Miller,
Hot Snakes,
Radio Birdman,
Half Japanese,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sixth Finger,
The Smiths,
Ituana,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Icehouse,
The Searchers,
Mr. Review,
The Star Department,
Lungfish,
Bobby Byrd,
Saccharine Trust,
Oblivians,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Public Enemy,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Hoover,
Gang of Four,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Raincoats,
Brothers Johnson,
Lalo Schifrin,
Stetsasonic,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Rites of Spring,
Bootsy Collins,
Peter and Kerry,
Erykah Badu,
The New Christs,
The Walker Brothers,
Althea and Donna,
Soul II Soul,
Albert Ayler,
Clear Light,
The Cowsills,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Symarip,
Wally Richardson,
The Stooges,
New Age Steppers,
Ice-T,
China Crisis,
Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio, Toni Rubio.
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.