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 Qatar and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 Bremen and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Shuggie Otis to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 June Days. All the underground hits.
All Amazonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a OOIOO record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Youth Brigade,
Brick,
Basic Channel,
Yusef Lateef,
Porter Ricks,
Andrew Hill,
Jimmy McGriff,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Smoke,
Hasil Adkins,
Graham Central Station,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Gap Band,
Marmalade,
Sun Ra,
Sound Behaviour,
Crispy Ambulance,
James White and The Blacks,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Association,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sister Nancy,
Harry Pussy,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Eric Dolphy,
Toni Rubio,
The J.B.'s,
OOIOO,
Rakim,
Dark Day,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lee Hazlewood,
Dennis Brown,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Hot Snakes,
Stiv Bators,
Monks,
The Tremeloes,
Khruangbin,
The New Christs,
Television,
Maurizio,
Wolf Eyes,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Yaz,
Bauhaus,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gastr Del Sol,
Franke,
T.S.O.L.,
Second Layer,
Minny Pops,
Mantronix,
Joe Smooth,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Blake Baxter,
Suicide,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.