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 Czech Republic and from London.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 arpeggiator 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 The Trojans to the techno 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Max Romeo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Khruangbin record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Hill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terry Callier,
Robert Görl,
the Soft Cell,
Warsaw,
Pussy Galore,
Interpol,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Vladislav Delay,
Pulsallama,
Cluster,
Section 25,
Aloha Tigers,
Pylon,
Faust,
Babytalk,
Crooked Eye,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
DJ Style,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Ultimate Spinach,
Angry Samoans,
Tres Demented,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Young Rascals,
World's Most,
Arcadia,
Alice Coltrane,
Morten Harket,
a-ha,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gang Starr,
Gerry Rafferty,
Spandau Ballet,
Livin' Joy,
Rakim,
Crime,
Newcleus,
Ossler,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Pantaleimon,
Zero Boys,
Glambeats Corp.,
Max Romeo,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Techniques,
The Offenders,
Yusef Lateef,
Banda Bassotti,
Deepchord,
Depeche Mode,
Bauhaus,
The Pretty Things,
The Kinks,
New York Dolls,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Real Kids,
Patti Smith,
Sarah Menescal,
Nico,
Slick Rick,
Roy Ayers,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.