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 Switzerland and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Copenhagen.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Jerry Gold Smith to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop 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 '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 Skaos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nils Olav,
The Red Krayola,
Funkadelic,
Leonard Cohen,
Crime,
Wally Richardson,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
CMW,
Scion,
The Seeds,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bauhaus,
The Divine Comedy,
The Toasters,
Rakim,
Tim Buckley,
Stiv Bators,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Fugs,
The Barracudas,
Radio Birdman,
Banda Bassotti,
The Techniques,
Quantec,
The Zeros,
Patti Smith,
Minutemen,
Nick Fraelich,
ABBA,
Idris Muhammad,
The Busters,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sarah Menescal,
Audionom,
Ludus,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Crash Course in Science,
Slave,
Ice-T,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Marmalade,
Severed Heads,
Gichy Dan,
Crooked Eye,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Gil Scott Heron,
Marshall Jefferson,
Guru Guru,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Association,
Bob Dylan,
Television Personalities,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Clear Light,
Nirvana,
John Foxx,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Flamin' Groovies,
Y Pants,
Scratch Acid,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.