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 Argentina and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Funky Four + One. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cramps record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scientists record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rites of Spring,
The Smoke,
Minny Pops,
The Fire Engines,
The Last Poets,
Intrusion,
The Names,
Public Enemy,
The Seeds,
Agent Orange,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Brand Nubian,
The Mojo Men,
H. Thieme,
Wire,
The Fall,
Anthony Braxton,
Banda Bassotti,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gichy Dan,
Robert Görl,
X-Ray Spex,
Aaron Thompson,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Flipper,
Warren Ellis,
Bang On A Can,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sugar Minott,
A Certain Ratio,
Stereo Dub,
The Pretty Things,
Bronski Beat,
Warsaw,
The Remains,
Lakeside,
The Fortunes,
Buzzcocks,
8 Eyed Spy,
FM Einheit,
Fat Boys,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Pole,
Wolf Eyes,
Qualms,
Popol Vuh,
The Sound,
Johnny Osbourne,
Graham Central Station,
The Dave Clark Five,
Donny Hathaway,
Freddie Wadling,
Spoonie Gee,
Swell Maps,
Soft Machine,
Mr. Review,
KRS-One,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Fluxion,
Flash Fearless,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.