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 Kyrgyzstan and from Tehran.
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 1967 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Gang Starr to the jazz kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Arab on Radar. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Franke,
The Music Machine,
Rakim,
Livin' Joy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Vladislav Delay,
Yusef Lateef,
Kurtis Blow,
Cheater Slicks,
The Martian,
Hasil Adkins,
Fort Wilson Riot,
David Axelrod,
Pole,
Amazonics,
Erykah Badu,
Faust,
Excepter,
Pantytec,
Reuben Wilson,
Magma,
New Order,
Wolf Eyes,
June Days,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Marine Girls,
Minny Pops,
Flipper,
Mad Mike,
H. Thieme,
Fugazi,
Scion,
Chris & Cosey,
Thee Headcoats,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Byron Stingily,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nils Olav,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Mars,
Tres Demented,
Soft Cell,
The Fall,
Panda Bear,
Ultravox,
Minutemen,
The Mojo Men,
Carl Craig,
Make Up,
Deadbeat,
Alice Coltrane,
Tomorrow,
The Fugs,
Zapp,
Don Cherry,
The United States of America,
Procol Harum,
Depeche Mode,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.