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 Liberia and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Calgary.
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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Dorothy Ashby to the crunk 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 Laurel Aitken. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Theoretical Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fugs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Victims,
Youth Brigade,
Minnie Riperton,
Althea and Donna,
The Monks,
The Durutti Column,
Kevin Saunderson,
China Crisis,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Sam Rivers,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Essential Logic,
Saccharine Trust,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Music Machine,
The Gap Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Black Flag,
Rites of Spring,
Hoover,
Black Moon,
Suicide,
Unwound,
The Fire Engines,
Andrew Hill,
Man Parrish,
Donny Hathaway,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Crooked Eye,
R.M.O.,
The Mummies,
Maurizio,
The Electric Prunes,
The Sonics,
Janne Schatter,
The Doors,
The Pop Group,
Jandek,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Soft Cell,
Howard Jones,
Funkadelic,
The Fortunes,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mr. Review,
The Dead C,
Can,
Jeru the Damaja,
John Coltrane,
Morten Harket,
Bang On A Can,
Soft Cell,
Moby Grape,
Sixth Finger,
Eric Copeland,
Robert Görl,
E-Dancer,
X-Ray Spex,
Average White Band,
Hashim,
Man Eating Sloth,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.