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 Barbados and from Jakarta.
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 1964 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Crispian St. Peters to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerri Chandler 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ponytail record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
Drive Like Jehu,
Laurel Aitken,
a-ha,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Dead C,
Peter & Gordon,
Intrusion,
Lalann,
The Flesh Eaters,
Black Moon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sällskapet,
Animal Collective,
The Vogues,
Jimmy McGriff,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
MC5,
Monks,
Sight & Sound,
Ponytail,
Wasted Youth,
The Kinks,
Swell Maps,
The Litter,
Hashim,
Grauzone,
The Tremeloes,
Jacques Brel,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Barracudas,
Black Pus,
Cluster,
Bang On A Can,
LL Cool J,
Rotary Connection,
Lower 48,
In Retrospect,
Shuggie Otis,
Eli Mardock,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Kayak,
Avey Tare,
Con Funk Shun,
ABC,
H. Thieme,
8 Eyed Spy,
Harry Pussy,
Echospace,
Cybotron,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Victims,
The J.B.'s,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Lungfish,
FM Einheit,
Joy Division,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Technova,
Sarah Menescal,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Mark Hollis,
DNA,
Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling, Freddie Wadling.
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.