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 Paraguay and from Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the 808 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 Jandek to the crunk 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 Lindisfarne. All the underground hits.
All Sunsets and Hearts tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ 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 marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
The Buckinghams,
Radio Birdman,
Deadbeat,
Hoover,
Gerry Rafferty,
Suicide,
John Coltrane,
The Mojo Men,
The Real Kids,
the Swans,
Mission of Burma,
Tubeway Army,
The Modern Lovers,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Aswad,
The Selecter,
Ohio Players,
Loose Ends,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Danielle Patucci,
Can,
Shuggie Otis,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Scientists,
Blake Baxter,
X-Ray Spex,
Khruangbin,
Cheater Slicks,
Anthony Braxton,
the Soft Cell,
Soft Cell,
Panda Bear,
Country Teasers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rakim,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Yellowson,
Joey Negro,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Thee Headcoats,
Aural Exciters,
Depeche Mode,
Swell Maps,
Glenn Branca,
The Walker Brothers,
Porter Ricks,
James White and The Blacks,
Patti Smith,
Lou Christie,
Ultravox,
Kurtis Blow,
David Axelrod,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Make Up,
John Holt,
The Move,
Wings,
Shoche,
Bobby Womack,
The Monks, The Monks, The Monks, The Monks.
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.