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 Gabon and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Matthew Halsall to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Circle Jerks 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 güiro and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Darondo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
The Searchers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brothers Johnson,
Zapp,
Arthur Verocai,
DJ Style,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Victims,
The Slits,
Cheater Slicks,
The Electric Prunes,
The Grass Roots,
Andrew Hill,
MDC,
Fugazi,
Neu!,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Goldenarms,
Pharoah Sanders,
This Heat,
Wasted Youth,
Charles Mingus,
Grauzone,
John Foxx,
Index,
The Tremeloes,
R.M.O.,
Michelle Simonal,
ABBA,
The Beau Brummels,
B.T. Express,
The Slackers,
Q and Not U,
The Velvet Underground,
Lee Hazlewood,
Khruangbin,
Brand Nubian,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Ludus,
Moebius,
Bob Dylan,
Kayak,
Sun City Girls,
Barry Ungar,
Moby Grape,
Pussy Galore,
The Doors,
Nas,
D'Angelo,
New Age Steppers,
Sarah Menescal,
Bronski Beat,
The Barracudas,
Quantec,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Tubeway Army,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Gastr Del Sol,
OOIOO,
Black Bananas,
The Durutti Column,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Residents, The Residents, The Residents, The Residents.
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.