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 Manila.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lyon.
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 linndrum 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 Radiopuhelimet to the disco 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 The Dead C. All the underground hits.
All Curtis Mayfield tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Graham Central Station record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Quantec,
Bush Tetras,
Isaac Hayes,
John Coltrane,
Alphaville,
Eric Copeland,
The Slits,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Television Personalities,
Donald Byrd,
Subhumans,
The Beau Brummels,
Rosa Yemen,
Porter Ricks,
Black Sheep,
Wasted Youth,
New Order,
Y Pants,
the Fania All-Stars,
Stetsasonic,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ponytail,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Grandmaster Flash,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Cymande,
Hasil Adkins,
Minny Pops,
Moebius,
Rites of Spring,
Kenny Larkin,
Skaos,
Tears for Fears,
Supertramp,
World's Most,
X-101,
Fluxion,
Joensuu 1685,
Clear Light,
The Mojo Men,
MDC,
The Wake,
Goldenarms,
Robert Wyatt,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Josef K,
Magma,
Boz Scaggs,
Sugar Minott,
Robert Hood,
Groovy Waters,
The Mummies,
The Moody Blues,
Aaron Thompson,
Derrick May,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Soft Machine,
Mantronix,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Ultra Naté,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.