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 Cameroon and from Milan.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Scratch Acid to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tomorrow 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harmonia record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Pharoah Sanders,
Dawn Penn,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Marmalade,
the Swans,
Barbara Tucker,
Flipper,
H. Thieme,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Tommy Roe,
ABC,
The Buckinghams,
Harpers Bizarre,
Joyce Sims,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Second Layer,
Bill Near,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bizarre Inc.,
Monks,
Talk Talk,
Pere Ubu,
Man Eating Sloth,
Q65,
A Certain Ratio,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Scientists,
D'Angelo,
Gichy Dan,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Gun Club,
Avey Tare,
Cameo,
The Sound,
Ultra Naté,
The New Christs,
Eurythmics,
The Dirtbombs,
Unwound,
Mark Hollis,
Groovy Waters,
Ultimate Spinach,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Divine Comedy,
Lalann,
Derrick Morgan,
Shoche,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Litter,
Essential Logic,
Grauzone,
Bronski Beat,
Television,
Roy Ayers,
the Sonics,
Flamin' Groovies,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tears for Fears,
Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler, Albert Ayler.
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.