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 Bhutan and from Lyon.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Seoul.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Bar-Kays to the techno 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 Royal Trux. All the underground hits.
All The Golliwogs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Todd Rundgren 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?
Brass Construction,
Pussy Galore,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Eric Copeland,
Jacob Miller,
The Smiths,
R.M.O.,
The American Breed,
Moss Icon,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Joyce Sims,
FM Einheit,
Massinfluence,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
DNA,
Sonny Sharrock,
Jeru the Damaja,
Electric Prunes,
The Wake,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fear,
KRS-One,
Gastr Del Sol,
Grey Daturas,
48th St. Collective,
Shuggie Otis,
Mantronix,
Lou Reed,
Eden Ahbez,
John Cale,
Joe Smooth,
Pantaleimon,
Ultimate Spinach,
Cymande,
The Durutti Column,
Susan Cadogan,
Max Romeo,
Man Eating Sloth,
Magma,
Black Sheep,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Gladiators,
Glambeats Corp.,
The J.B.'s,
Blancmange,
The Mighty Diamonds,
UT,
Scratch Acid,
Tropical Tobacco,
Tears for Fears,
the Bar-Kays,
Shoche,
Lindisfarne,
Johnny Clarke,
Clear Light,
Skarface,
The Doors,
Robert Hood,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Anakelly,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.