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 Uganda and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 snare 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 Slackers to the techno 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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Index record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
Warsaw,
Ultravox,
Whodini,
Joey Negro,
Public Image Ltd.,
B.T. Express,
kango's stein massive,
Banda Bassotti,
Outsiders,
Alice Coltrane,
Wolf Eyes,
Porter Ricks,
Archie Shepp,
Khruangbin,
Theoretical Girls,
Section 25,
Don Cherry,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Music Machine,
Traffic Nightmare,
AZ,
Rapeman,
Shoche,
Stockholm Monsters,
Eric Copeland,
Interpol,
Angry Samoans,
Big Daddy Kane,
the Normal,
The Star Department,
Minutemen,
The Last Poets,
Sexual Harrassment,
Kurtis Blow,
Scrapy,
Television,
Todd Rundgren,
Radiohead,
Lou Reed,
The Stooges,
Johnny Osbourne,
Kool Moe Dee,
Deepchord,
K-Klass,
The Fall,
Second Layer,
EPMD,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Dave Gahan,
New York Dolls,
Ornette Coleman,
Arab on Radar,
Nico,
Tropical Tobacco,
Joyce Sims,
Symarip,
The Litter,
Joe Smooth,
John Lydon,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Jacques Brel,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.