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 Nauru and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Bologna.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Grey Daturas to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron. All the underground hits.
All Rites of Spring tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Henry Cow 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a X-102 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
The Stooges,
Mandrill,
E-Dancer,
Angry Samoans,
Stiv Bators,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Drexciya,
The Cure,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
the Slits,
Sarah Menescal,
U.S. Maple,
Mark Hollis,
Metal Thangz,
Jerry's Kids,
Amazonics,
Liliput,
Marcia Griffiths,
Leonard Cohen,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Excepter,
The Modern Lovers,
JFA,
The Monochrome Set,
Ultravox,
Joy Division,
Mary Jane Girls,
B.T. Express,
Minutemen,
Robert Görl,
The Mummies,
Faraquet,
The Gories,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Banda Bassotti,
Smog,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Prince Buster,
Crispian St. Peters,
Ludus,
Mantronix,
Yaz,
Max Romeo,
The Cowsills,
Boz Scaggs,
Graham Central Station,
Von Mondo,
Eurythmics,
cv313,
Sixth Finger,
Althea and Donna,
Radio Birdman,
Shoche,
the Fania All-Stars,
John Cale,
Gerry Rafferty,
Cal Tjader,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Rites of Spring,
Joensuu 1685,
Niagra, Niagra, Niagra, Niagra.
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.