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 Peru and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Real Kids to the funk 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 Camouflage. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Cramps,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Fatback Band,
Parry Music,
Joey Negro,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Kinks,
John Holt,
Kenny Larkin,
The Five Americans,
Toni Rubio,
Jimmy McGriff,
Faust,
Bobby Womack,
Qualms,
Pantaleimon,
Harry Pussy,
Adolescents,
James White and The Blacks,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Fela Kuti,
H. Thieme,
Max Romeo,
Desert Stars,
X-101,
Joe Smooth,
Leonard Cohen,
Tomorrow,
Gichy Dan,
Sunsets and Hearts,
June Days,
Blossom Toes,
Wings,
The Mojo Men,
Skaos,
The Skatalites,
Susan Cadogan,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
These Immortal Souls,
Make Up,
Gastr Del Sol,
Khruangbin,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Brothers Johnson,
New York Dolls,
Davy DMX,
Ronan,
Brick,
The Gories,
Aswad,
The New Christs,
Swans,
Alice Coltrane,
Eve St. Jones,
Von Mondo,
The Busters,
Crime,
Animal Collective,
Banda Bassotti,
Darondo, Darondo, Darondo, Darondo.
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.