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 Laos and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 clarinet 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 Schoolly D to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Remains. All the underground hits.
All Cybotron tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Smog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Grass Roots,
Donny Hathaway,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jeru the Damaja,
Hot Snakes,
cv313,
Morten Harket,
Faust,
The Human League,
Minor Threat,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sugar Minott,
Prince Buster,
The Gladiators,
Make Up,
The Saints,
Y Pants,
Bill Wells,
the Normal,
Gang Starr,
Khruangbin,
David Bowie,
Jesper Dahlback,
Judy Mowatt,
Alison Limerick,
Charles Mingus,
One Last Wish,
Letta Mbulu,
Roxy Music,
Rites of Spring,
the Bar-Kays,
Fugazi,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The United States of America,
The Names,
Country Teasers,
Severed Heads,
Fluxion,
Brothers Johnson,
the Swans,
The Gap Band,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Black Pus,
Electric Prunes,
The Fall,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sound Behaviour,
Heaven 17,
Moby Grape,
Alphaville,
Yazoo,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cybotron,
The Moody Blues,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Angels of Light,
The Associates,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crispy Ambulance,
Ludus, Ludus, Ludus, Ludus.
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.