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 Denmark and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 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 X-102 to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Gang Green. All the underground hits.
All Darondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eddi Front 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Banda Bassotti record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Desert Stars,
Parry Music,
Thompson Twins,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Nirvana,
Archie Shepp,
David Bowie,
Dawn Penn,
Neil Young,
Juan Atkins,
Negative Approach,
The Searchers,
Colin Newman,
DJ Sneak,
La Düsseldorf,
Zero Boys,
The Cramps,
cv313,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Intrusion,
Goldenarms,
Crispy Ambulance,
Tubeway Army,
Hoover,
AZ,
The Dirtbombs,
The Gun Club,
Josef K,
Mantronix,
Basic Channel,
This Heat,
David McCallum,
Ornette Coleman,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tears for Fears,
Aloha Tigers,
Isaac Hayes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Slits,
Leonard Cohen,
Henry Cow,
Gong,
Todd Rundgren,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Techniques,
Lungfish,
Terrestrial Tones,
Jacob Miller,
Youth Brigade,
Joyce Sims,
Eric Dolphy,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Kinks,
Sixth Finger,
Main Source,
Tropical Tobacco,
Minnie Riperton,
Funkadelic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Essential Logic,
Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr, Gang Starr.
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.