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 Indonesia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 spring reverb 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 Wally Richardson to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Panda Bear. All the underground hits.
All June of 44 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fat Boys 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hashim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Copeland,
Mark Hollis,
La Düsseldorf,
June Days,
Roger Hodgson,
The Evens,
The Residents,
The Tremeloes,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Soulsonic Force,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wings,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Moon,
Organ,
Moss Icon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Slackers,
The Raincoats,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
June of 44,
DNA,
Guru Guru,
Aloha Tigers,
Barbara Tucker,
Silicon Teens,
Yaz,
Lee Hazlewood,
Darondo,
Roxette,
Kayak,
The Index,
Y Pants,
Gang Starr,
The Red Krayola,
Drexciya,
Alphaville,
The Young Rascals,
The Litter,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Intrusion,
Glenn Branca,
World's Most,
Circle Jerks,
Public Image Ltd.,
Scratch Acid,
Metal Thangz,
Niagra,
Hasil Adkins,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ronan,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Shoche,
Chrome,
Mars,
Crispy Ambulance,
PIL,
Morten Harket,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Dave Clark Five,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.