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 Suriname and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Jesper Dahlback to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Chris Corsano tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jimmy McGriff 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warsaw,
Hardrive,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Judy Mowatt,
Niagra,
The Invisible,
The Five Americans,
Brass Construction,
Harry Pussy,
Danielle Patucci,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Rufus Thomas,
Anthony Braxton,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Vladislav Delay,
Desert Stars,
The Names,
Cymande,
Crime,
Infiniti,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Wake,
Livin' Joy,
John Foxx,
the Slits,
A Certain Ratio,
Crispy Ambulance,
Scion,
Technova,
The Stooges,
Simply Red,
The Victims,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Eden Ahbez,
Kenny Larkin,
Magazine,
R.M.O.,
Flash Fearless,
These Immortal Souls,
Average White Band,
Bill Near,
Stereo Dub,
Funky Four + One,
Shoche,
Essential Logic,
The Durutti Column,
Wire,
Eddi Front,
Mandrill,
Mission of Burma,
The Evens,
Pylon,
Brand Nubian,
Bluetip,
Saccharine Trust,
Nick Fraelich,
Mark Hollis,
Outsiders,
Joyce Sims,
Soul II Soul,
John Cale,
Monolake, Monolake, Monolake, Monolake.
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.