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 Singapore and from Taipei.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 theremin 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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a clarinet 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 harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pussy Galore,
Chrome,
Ponytail,
R.M.O.,
Mary Jane Girls,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Robert Wyatt,
Hoover,
Jeff Lynne,
Blossom Toes,
Lindisfarne,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Motions,
Essential Logic,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Kenny Larkin,
Minnie Riperton,
John Foxx,
The Last Poets,
Cal Tjader,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Robert Görl,
James White and The Blacks,
Boredoms,
Das Ding,
The Barracudas,
Qualms,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Animal Collective,
Lakeside,
X-Ray Spex,
Spandau Ballet,
Clear Light,
Donald Byrd,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ten City,
Freddie Wadling,
Grey Daturas,
John Coltrane,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
New York Dolls,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Juan Atkins,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Germs,
Procol Harum,
Zapp,
Lungfish,
the Normal,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Aural Exciters,
Donny Hathaway,
Stockholm Monsters,
Toni Rubio,
Warren Ellis,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Fear,
The Index,
Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot.
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.