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 Syria and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Martian. All the underground hits.
All Robert Hood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Man Eating Sloth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
Nils Olav,
These Immortal Souls,
Boz Scaggs,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cal Tjader,
L. Decosne,
Jeff Lynne,
Simply Red,
EPMD,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Slick Rick,
Peter & Gordon,
The Litter,
Zapp,
Saccharine Trust,
Malaria!,
Man Parrish,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rotary Connection,
Alison Limerick,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
John Lydon,
Smog,
Althea and Donna,
Lebanon Hanover,
Jawbox,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Remains,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Rapeman,
The Durutti Column,
Sonny Sharrock,
Monolake,
Hasil Adkins,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Wolf Eyes,
The Motions,
Basic Channel,
The Move,
DJ Style,
Lightning Bolt,
The Victims,
Siglo XX,
the Soft Cell,
Yazoo,
Minnie Riperton,
Negative Approach,
The Techniques,
Mo-Dettes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Zero Boys,
Robert Wyatt,
Ultravox,
F. McDonald,
Ralphi Rosario,
Fat Boys,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.