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 Guatemala and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 clarinet 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 Symarip to the rock kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Skatalites. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Traffic Nightmare,
Fluxion,
James White and The Blacks,
Crispian St. Peters,
Intrusion,
Dennis Brown,
Audionom,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Colin Newman,
Groovy Waters,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Flesh Eaters,
Marc Almond,
Outsiders,
Absolute Body Control,
Aloha Tigers,
Albert Ayler,
Tim Buckley,
The Gladiators,
Pantytec,
Dorothy Ashby,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Spandau Ballet,
Avey Tare,
Cameo,
David Axelrod,
Aural Exciters,
Nils Olav,
Essential Logic,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Ten City,
The Names,
Accadde A,
Swans,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gregory Isaacs,
Blossom Toes,
Max Romeo,
Rotary Connection,
Au Pairs,
Liliput,
Bobby Byrd,
Urselle,
Hardrive,
Malaria!,
Nico,
A Certain Ratio,
Blancmange,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Slick Rick,
Electric Prunes,
EPMD,
Con Funk Shun,
Maurizio,
the Germs,
Wasted Youth,
Sandy B,
Faust,
The Modern Lovers,
Lou Christie,
Joyce Sims,
The Mojo Men,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.