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 Bolivia and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 Jakarta and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 sitar 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 Iggy Pop to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Erykah Badu 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liaisons Dangereuses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barbara Tucker,
The Last Poets,
Girls At Our Best!,
Inner City,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
E-Dancer,
Nick Fraelich,
Harmonia,
EPMD,
Chris & Cosey,
Cameo,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Little Man,
David McCallum,
The Gun Club,
Ten City,
Dead Boys,
Kenny Larkin,
Sexual Harrassment,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Surgeon,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Suicide,
Prince Buster,
The Misunderstood,
Reuben Wilson,
Swans,
Max Romeo,
Crispian St. Peters,
Khruangbin,
Organ,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Adolescents,
Duran Duran,
Minny Pops,
Cheater Slicks,
Brick,
Bizarre Inc.,
Zero Boys,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Ice-T,
Harry Pussy,
Bluetip,
Colin Newman,
Crime,
Gichy Dan,
Jerry's Kids,
Mad Mike,
Terry Callier,
Qualms,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Fire Engines,
Infiniti,
Radio Birdman,
Warsaw,
The Residents,
Soft Machine,
Big Daddy Kane,
Thee Headcoats,
Mandrill,
Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins.
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.