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 Guyana and from Toronto.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Maurizio,
Wings,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Ituana,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Pop Group,
Wally Richardson,
Gichy Dan,
Dennis Brown,
Bang On A Can,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Minny Pops,
Sam Rivers,
Rekid,
Ronan,
The Detroit Cobras,
Leonard Cohen,
The Techniques,
Kas Product,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Leaves,
The Fire Engines,
Absolute Body Control,
A Certain Ratio,
Royal Trux,
Roy Ayers,
Josef K,
KRS-One,
ABBA,
Alton Ellis,
Matthew Halsall,
Camberwell Now,
The Litter,
Fat Boys,
Pussy Galore,
Davy DMX,
Dead Boys,
Pylon,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Malaria!,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Angels of Light,
Circle Jerks,
PIL,
Mars,
The Raincoats,
Jesper Dahlback,
the Germs,
Rakim,
Mantronix,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Knickerbockers,
Outsiders,
Terry Callier,
The Monochrome Set,
The Offenders,
Sonic Youth,
Infiniti,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry, Don Cherry.
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.