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 Cambodia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1966 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1977 at the first Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the marimba 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 Khruangbin 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 Peter and Kerry. All the underground hits.
All Das Ding tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Toni Rubio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 a harpsichord and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gastr Del Sol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brand Nubian,
Robert Hood,
Popol Vuh,
New Age Steppers,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Eric Dolphy,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Harry Pussy,
Babytalk,
Bill Near,
Pantytec,
KRS-One,
Gastr Del Sol,
Monolake,
Slick Rick,
Minny Pops,
Crime,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Moody Blues,
Scott Walker,
Can,
In Retrospect,
Curtis Mayfield,
Von Mondo,
The Modern Lovers,
kango's stein massive,
The Tremeloes,
Al Stewart,
Sex Pistols,
Ossler,
Fatback Band,
Visage,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Slackers,
Young Marble Giants,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Wasted Youth,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Desert Stars,
The Move,
Althea and Donna,
Neil Young,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Cymande,
Sarah Menescal,
Animal Collective,
Susan Cadogan,
PIL,
Sparks,
Byron Stingily,
Boredoms,
Thompson Twins,
Theoretical Girls,
Bobby Womack,
Scan 7,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Freddie Wadling,
Au Pairs,
Peter & Gordon,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.