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 Burkina and from New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 London Community Gospel Choir to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Amon Düül II record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a MC5 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
F. McDonald,
Urselle,
Kerri Chandler,
Blake Baxter,
Sandy B,
Nils Olav,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Tears for Fears,
Skarface,
Soul Sonic Force,
Bizarre Inc.,
Joensuu 1685,
Essential Logic,
Das Ding,
The New Christs,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Camouflage,
Youth Brigade,
Anthony Braxton,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Young Marble Giants,
Hasil Adkins,
The Flesh Eaters,
Albert Ayler,
Arcadia,
Derrick May,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sugar Minott,
the Sonics,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
New Order,
Skaos,
Pantaleimon,
ABBA,
Lakeside,
ABC,
Groovy Waters,
Kurtis Blow,
MDC,
Boredoms,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Angry Samoans,
Y Pants,
The Grass Roots,
Clear Light,
Barrington Levy,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Cymande,
Jacques Brel,
Warren Ellis,
Con Funk Shun,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ten City,
Suburban Knight,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Litter,
Audionom,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Country Teasers,
Jeru the Damaja,
KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One, KRS-One.
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.