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 Lesotho and from Bologna.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Terrestrial Tones to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Gerry Rafferty tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Organ 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Crash Course in Science record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Newcleus,
The Busters,
Brand Nubian,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Monks,
Stereo Dub,
Rites of Spring,
Interpol,
Rapeman,
Faust,
Amon Düül,
Arab on Radar,
Bad Manners,
The Martian,
Sister Nancy,
These Immortal Souls,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Terry Callier,
The Cramps,
Black Flag,
Danielle Patucci,
Half Japanese,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Severed Heads,
Bronski Beat,
Lungfish,
The Victims,
Guru Guru,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Bobby Womack,
The Five Americans,
K-Klass,
Massinfluence,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Prince Buster,
Albert Ayler,
The Beau Brummels,
Average White Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Mr. Review,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Icehouse,
Wings,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Toasters,
Lalann,
Vainqueur,
Aaron Thompson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Camberwell Now,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Barclay James Harvest,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Yazoo,
Mad Mike,
LL Cool J,
Loose Ends,
Black Bananas,
The Selecter,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.