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 Dominican Republic and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 oboe 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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap to the rap 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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Trumans Water tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hoover record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bluetip,
Sandy B,
Scion,
Jerry's Kids,
Half Japanese,
Barry Ungar,
Glenn Branca,
Sexual Harrassment,
Radiopuhelimet,
Marvin Gaye,
The Litter,
The Trojans,
Albert Ayler,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Beau Brummels,
JFA,
Traffic Nightmare,
Alphaville,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gichy Dan,
Robert Wyatt,
The Gories,
Cheater Slicks,
Bang On A Can,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Bill Near,
the Bar-Kays,
Harmonia,
Zero Boys,
Electric Prunes,
The Divine Comedy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Surgeon,
June of 44,
The Grass Roots,
Drexciya,
Flipper,
Jesper Dahlback,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Young Marble Giants,
the Sonics,
The Shadows of Knight,
The United States of America,
B.T. Express,
Lucky Dragons,
Slave,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Last Poets,
Quando Quango,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Young Rascals,
AZ,
Deakin,
Motorama,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Scratch Acid,
Bobby Womack,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.