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 Albania and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 OOIOO to the electroclash 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 Parry Music. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef 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 crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a EPMD record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pierre Henry,
The Monks,
Boz Scaggs,
The Cure,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Make Up,
Donald Byrd,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Yellowson,
Symarip,
The Walker Brothers,
Fad Gadget,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kayak,
Oblivians,
Fat Boys,
The Monochrome Set,
The Martian,
Hasil Adkins,
Byron Stingily,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Alison Limerick,
Porter Ricks,
Terry Callier,
The Five Americans,
Jandek,
The Remains,
The Moody Blues,
Shoche,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Brothers Johnson,
Nick Fraelich,
Steve Hackett,
Khruangbin,
Drexciya,
Motorama,
MDC,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Loose Ends,
Slave,
Tim Buckley,
John Lydon,
Swell Maps,
The Black Dice,
Lou Christie,
Visage,
Funkadelic,
Wings,
X-Ray Spex,
Maleditus Sound,
The Victims,
the Fania All-Stars,
Technova,
The Index,
Animal Collective,
The Offenders,
Boredoms,
John Coltrane,
Barry Ungar,
The Divine Comedy,
Trumans Water,
David Axelrod,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.