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 Lesotho and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Doors to the grime 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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All Laurel Aitken tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 clarinet and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Eric B and Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Jesper Dahlback,
Graham Central Station,
Adolescents,
Khruangbin,
Alison Limerick,
Stereo Dub,
Ronan,
Donny Hathaway,
Altered Images,
Rapeman,
David Axelrod,
Moby Grape,
Sixth Finger,
Oblivians,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Technova,
The Golliwogs,
Thee Headcoats,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fat Boys,
The Mojo Men,
Faraquet,
Marmalade,
Whodini,
The Associates,
Von Mondo,
Harry Pussy,
Nils Olav,
the Swans,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Sonics,
Dorothy Ashby,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Tremeloes,
the Germs,
The Detroit Cobras,
Yazoo,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Jeff Mills,
The Gladiators,
Thompson Twins,
Minutemen,
Delta 5,
Grandmaster Flash,
Can,
Loose Ends,
Stiv Bators,
Hot Snakes,
The Invisible,
Mission of Burma,
Ultra Naté,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Zero Boys,
Roger Hodgson,
John Foxx,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.