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 Montenegro and from Spokane.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 marimba 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 Pussy Galore to the crunk 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 The Fuzztones. All the underground hits.
All London Community Gospel Choir tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alison Limerick 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sugar Minott record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gerry Rafferty,
Joensuu 1685,
Hardrive,
The Modern Lovers,
Severed Heads,
DNA,
OOIOO,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
T. Rex,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Reagan Youth,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eric B and Rakim,
Malaria!,
The Sound,
Talk Talk,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Bang On A Can,
Letta Mbulu,
Cluster,
Roxette,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Girls At Our Best!,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Sonny Sharrock,
Quantec,
Soulsonic Force,
The Gap Band,
Silicon Teens,
Scion,
The Knickerbockers,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Duran Duran,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Junior Murvin,
Blake Baxter,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Isaac Hayes,
Kaleidoscope,
Dennis Brown,
Scott Walker,
Camberwell Now,
Niagra,
Piero Umiliani,
Trumans Water,
CMW,
Lyres,
Fela Kuti,
Henry Cow,
Pere Ubu,
Skaos,
Crispy Ambulance,
David Axelrod,
The Neon Judgement,
Wire,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Walker Brothers,
Anakelly,
Kool Moe Dee,
Eddi Front,
The Remains,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.