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 Botswana and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 oboe 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 Erykah Badu to the dance 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 Yaz. All the underground hits.
All Terror Squad Feat. Camron 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 grime 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 synthesizer and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Outsiders,
The Busters,
Albert Ayler,
Wire,
Yazoo,
Goldenarms,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Invisible,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Crispian St. Peters,
The United States of America,
Black Pus,
Crash Course in Science,
Ken Boothe,
Suicide,
Morten Harket,
Flash Fearless,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lalo Schifrin,
Metal Thangz,
The Flesh Eaters,
Flipper,
Fatback Band,
Ultimate Spinach,
Loose Ends,
The Buckinghams,
The Tremeloes,
Graham Central Station,
Camouflage,
Ossler,
Trumans Water,
Darondo,
The Neon Judgement,
Carl Craig,
Laurel Aitken,
Charles Mingus,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
R.M.O.,
Gerry Rafferty,
Amon Düül,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rites of Spring,
Jeff Lynne,
Soft Cell,
The Count Five,
D'Angelo,
Swans,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Jawbox,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Associates,
Tubeway Army,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Monks,
Piero Umiliani,
Blossom Toes,
Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs, Boz Scaggs.
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.