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 Angola and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Y Pants to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Harmonia. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Kinks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Golliwogs,
Visage,
Boz Scaggs,
Surgeon,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Absolute Body Control,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Electric Prunes,
Minny Pops,
Flipper,
Monolake,
Bang On A Can,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Radio Birdman,
Nirvana,
The Fugs,
The Gap Band,
the Bar-Kays,
Supertramp,
The Doors,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Electric Light Orchestra,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Arab on Radar,
Subhumans,
Zapp,
Goldenarms,
Man Eating Sloth,
Saccharine Trust,
David McCallum,
The Happenings,
Ultravox,
The Birthday Party,
June Days,
Connie Case,
Sparks,
EPMD,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Kinks,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Crash Course in Science,
Clear Light,
Buzzcocks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Youth Brigade,
KRS-One,
Skarface,
Frankie Knuckles,
Juan Atkins,
Interpol,
Aloha Tigers,
Skaos,
Scientists,
Sight & Sound,
The Invisible,
ABBA,
Soul II Soul,
Wolf Eyes,
Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters, Groovy Waters.
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.