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 Trinidad & Tobago and from Bologna.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Bang on a Can All-Stars to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Index. All the underground hits.
All Sixth Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Freddie Wadling record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Echospace record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Severed Heads,
James White and The Blacks,
The Cowsills,
The Index,
Roger Hodgson,
Warren Ellis,
Pet Shop Boys,
Monolake,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Gap Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Lou Christie,
Con Funk Shun,
Vainqueur,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Donny Hathaway,
Ponytail,
Man Parrish,
Byron Stingily,
Ultravox,
This Heat,
Spoonie Gee,
Parry Music,
Gerry Rafferty,
Procol Harum,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rufus Thomas,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
EPMD,
Wally Richardson,
The Durutti Column,
Ken Boothe,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Easy Going,
Echospace,
Flash Fearless,
John Cale,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Eli Mardock,
Eric Copeland,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Intrusion,
Neil Young,
Kaleidoscope,
Absolute Body Control,
Swans,
Brand Nubian,
Kool Moe Dee,
Lee Hazlewood,
Nas,
Carl Craig,
Josef K,
Circle Jerks,
Lou Reed,
Al Stewart,
Motorama,
One Last Wish,
Ohio Players,
Swell Maps,
World's Most,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.