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 Nepal and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Nirvana to the disco kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Black Bananas. All the underground hits.
All Drive Like Jehu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kaleidoscope record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Residents,
The Gories,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sonic Youth,
Lindisfarne,
Pantytec,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Unrelated Segments,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Frankie Knuckles,
Inner City,
John Holt,
Eric Copeland,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Last Poets,
Brick,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Steve Hackett,
Quadrant,
The Dead C,
The Alarm Clocks,
Essential Logic,
Minny Pops,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Y Pants,
Arcadia,
10cc,
The Associates,
Skriet,
Eddi Front,
Jawbox,
Funkadelic,
Eric B and Rakim,
AZ,
Nik Kershaw,
Groovy Waters,
Yellowson,
Mo-Dettes,
Public Image Ltd.,
Josef K,
Joe Finger,
the Soft Cell,
The Victims,
The Misunderstood,
James White and The Blacks,
Reagan Youth,
Infiniti,
Duran Duran,
Max Romeo,
Popol Vuh,
Sun Ra,
Warren Ellis,
Anthony Braxton,
Kurtis Blow,
Godley & Creme,
Patti Smith,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.