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 Gabon and from Cairo.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Soft Cell to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Rites of Spring tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Little Man record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kango’s Stein Massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
The Fall,
Gang Starr,
The Toasters,
The Moody Blues,
Yellowson,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Five Americans,
Joe Smooth,
Monks,
Cybotron,
Blake Baxter,
Outsiders,
Schoolly D,
Marmalade,
Roxette,
Y Pants,
Suburban Knight,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Basic Channel,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Fad Gadget,
Arcadia,
Joe Finger,
The Dead C,
Bush Tetras,
Amon Düül,
Little Man,
Neil Young,
Roy Ayers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Jawbox,
DNA,
Rod Modell,
Lee Hazlewood,
Stockholm Monsters,
Ten City,
Moby Grape,
Nils Olav,
R.M.O.,
Robert Görl,
Joyce Sims,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jandek,
The Selecter,
Pulsallama,
Von Mondo,
48th St. Collective,
Ash Ra Tempel,
In Retrospect,
The Mummies,
Rakim,
Scion,
cv313,
Stereo Dub,
The Doors,
Hasil Adkins,
Boogie Down Productions,
Q and Not U,
Half Japanese,
The Music Machine,
The Gories, The Gories, The Gories, The Gories.
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.