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 Russia and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Justin Hinds & The Dominoes to the crunk 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 Colin Newman. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Brothers Johnson,
Glenn Branca,
Ronnie Foster,
Clear Light,
Hot Snakes,
Y Pants,
Leonard Cohen,
Camouflage,
Metal Thangz,
Jawbox,
Cameo,
Idris Muhammad,
Goldenarms,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Walker Brothers,
Nirvana,
Archie Shepp,
Oblivians,
The Offenders,
the Bar-Kays,
Andrew Hill,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Fuzztones,
Marc Almond,
Pulsallama,
Gong,
Jesper Dahlback,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Zero Boys,
Essential Logic,
Theoretical Girls,
Barry Ungar,
Silicon Teens,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Radio Birdman,
The Searchers,
Subhumans,
Bobby Byrd,
Scrapy,
Fear,
48th St. Collective,
Urselle,
New York Dolls,
Altered Images,
Roxette,
Young Marble Giants,
Second Layer,
A Certain Ratio,
The Angels of Light,
Rakim,
Bush Tetras,
Magma,
The Mojo Men,
Eddi Front,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Can,
Zapp,
James White and The Blacks,
Quantec,
Prince Buster,
Lou Christie,
The Doors,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.