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 Luxembourg and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Michael McDonald 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 Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish to the funk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Boz Scaggs. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bang On A Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Amazonics,
Freddie Wadling,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Al Stewart,
Cybotron,
The Star Department,
Bush Tetras,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Motions,
E-Dancer,
Yusef Lateef,
Howard Jones,
Pylon,
Zapp,
Minny Pops,
The Blues Magoos,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kerri Chandler,
Flipper,
Blossom Toes,
Marcia Griffiths,
Model 500,
a-ha,
Delta 5,
The Modern Lovers,
Fat Boys,
Cheater Slicks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Basic Channel,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Joy Division,
Laurel Aitken,
Roxette,
Todd Rundgren,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Toasters,
Organ,
Quantec,
Dennis Brown,
Ronan,
Easy Going,
Carl Craig,
Newcleus,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bill Wells,
Adolescents,
Porter Ricks,
Danielle Patucci,
Clear Light,
The Residents,
Camouflage,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Birthday Party,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Ten City,
Neu!,
Leonard Cohen,
Popol Vuh,
The Fortunes,
Moby Grape,
Joe Finger,
The Raincoats,
Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna, Althea and Donna.
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.