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 Guinea-Bissau and from Mumbai.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
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 Theoretical Girls to the rap 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 Bluetip. All the underground hits.
All Alice Coltrane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ossler record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Colin Newman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe 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?
Spoonie Gee,
Eddi Front,
Prince Buster,
Marc Almond,
Buzzcocks,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Neu!,
Bronski Beat,
Wolf Eyes,
Minnie Riperton,
Nik Kershaw,
Scott Walker,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sixth Finger,
B.T. Express,
Brothers Johnson,
John Coltrane,
This Heat,
Electric Prunes,
The Black Dice,
Rapeman,
Camouflage,
Rites of Spring,
Grey Daturas,
Glambeats Corp.,
Little Man,
Crime,
Tim Buckley,
Clear Light,
David McCallum,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Skarface,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Gun Club,
The Fugs,
Stereo Dub,
The Selecter,
Gichy Dan,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Unwound,
Curtis Mayfield,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
the Slits,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Andrew Hill,
June Days,
Todd Rundgren,
James White and The Blacks,
Negative Approach,
Gregory Isaacs,
Tommy Roe,
Nirvana,
Skaos,
The Modern Lovers,
Kaleidoscope,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Roxy Music,
Bootsy Collins,
Stockholm Monsters,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Minutemen,
Zapp,
John Foxx,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.