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 Haiti and from Bologna.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Electric Prunes to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Desert Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gong,
The Invisible,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Sonics,
The Gories,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Stiv Bators,
Gang Starr,
Newcleus,
The Barracudas,
Swans,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
H. Thieme,
The Star Department,
The Sound,
Infiniti,
Parry Music,
Crispian St. Peters,
Marcia Griffiths,
These Immortal Souls,
Sonic Youth,
Public Image Ltd.,
Lower 48,
Bobby Womack,
Roxette,
The New Christs,
T.S.O.L.,
Lee Hazlewood,
Rufus Thomas,
The Knickerbockers,
The Selecter,
Gregory Isaacs,
Schoolly D,
Tom Boy,
Barbara Tucker,
Frankie Knuckles,
Clear Light,
Make Up,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Wasted Youth,
The Smoke,
The Monks,
Can,
Trumans Water,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Anthony Braxton,
The Martian,
Royal Trux,
Susan Cadogan,
Severed Heads,
Half Japanese,
X-101,
Flipper,
Radiohead,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Liliput,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Vainqueur,
The Real Kids,
Altered Images,
Throbbing Gristle,
Siglo XX,
Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army, Tubeway Army.
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.