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 Venezuela and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Dave Clark Five to the rap 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 Rhythm & Sound. All the underground hits.
All Dennis Brown tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a snare and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Janne Schatter,
The Moody Blues,
Black Moon,
Howard Jones,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Harry Pussy,
Todd Terry,
Saccharine Trust,
Ultravox,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mr. Review,
Lindisfarne,
U.S. Maple,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Trojans,
The Litter,
The Fugs,
Jerry's Kids,
DNA,
The Alarm Clocks,
D'Angelo,
Pulsallama,
Sun City Girls,
Tommy Roe,
Massinfluence,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Fuzztones,
Flamin' Groovies,
Angry Samoans,
Unrelated Segments,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bill Near,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Vladislav Delay,
X-Ray Spex,
China Crisis,
Peter & Gordon,
Spandau Ballet,
Camberwell Now,
The Moleskins,
Nik Kershaw,
Kurtis Blow,
The Residents,
The Fall,
Minnie Riperton,
Graham Central Station,
Suicide,
Simply Red,
Aaron Thompson,
Funkadelic,
The Gun Club,
Adolescents,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Crooked Eye,
Dennis Brown,
Cymande,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Stockholm Monsters,
Depeche Mode,
Kerri Chandler,
R.M.O.,
Das Ding,
The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators, The Gladiators.
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.