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 Mongolia 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Paris.
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 Nile Rodgers 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 Crispy Ambulance to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Warren Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Glambeats Corp.,
Ornette Coleman,
The Durutti Column,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gregory Isaacs,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Yaz,
Black Moon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Mr. Review,
Kas Product,
The Electric Prunes,
Eric Copeland,
Gong,
The Slits,
Spandau Ballet,
Big Daddy Kane,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
MDC,
Pylon,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
This Heat,
The Gun Club,
Surgeon,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lalann,
Dead Boys,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Pere Ubu,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Zero Boys,
The Offenders,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Guru Guru,
The Fugs,
Ken Boothe,
Dorothy Ashby,
Television Personalities,
Faraquet,
Nirvana,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mary Jane Girls,
Motorama,
The Standells,
Scientists,
Organ,
Brothers Johnson,
Leonard Cohen,
K-Klass,
Roxy Music,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mark Hollis,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sight & Sound,
Liliput,
Janne Schatter,
Crash Course in Science,
Freddie Wadling,
Hoover,
Lindisfarne,
Rosa Yemen,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.