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 Costa Rica and from Manchester.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Nation of Ulysses to the punk 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 Sarah Menescal. All the underground hits.
All Bauhaus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angels of Light & Akron/Family record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Pussy Galore,
Brass Construction,
Sam Rivers,
Amazonics,
Derrick May,
Brand Nubian,
World's Most,
The Invisible,
Schoolly D,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Birthday Party,
Panda Bear,
Oblivians,
Cymande,
John Coltrane,
The New Christs,
Janne Schatter,
Josef K,
The Litter,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Black Flag,
Gabor Szabo,
The Knickerbockers,
Parry Music,
Mars,
Rites of Spring,
Spandau Ballet,
Mark Hollis,
Pagans,
The Saints,
Fugazi,
Lee Hazlewood,
Tomorrow,
The Black Dice,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Searchers,
Minutemen,
The Real Kids,
The Alarm Clocks,
Danielle Patucci,
Laurel Aitken,
Roy Ayers,
The United States of America,
The Mighty Diamonds,
JFA,
Davy DMX,
Funkadelic,
the Fania All-Stars,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bobby Womack,
The Monks,
Alice Coltrane,
Junior Murvin,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Quadrant,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lakeside,
Freddie Wadling,
Second Layer,
Tom Boy,
James White and The Blacks,
The Seeds,
AZ, AZ, AZ, AZ.
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.