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 Ukraine and from Mexico City.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 rhodes 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 Blues Magoos to the disco 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Vogues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Laurel Aitken record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Icehouse,
Anakelly,
Buzzcocks,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Gerry Rafferty,
MC5,
Sixth Finger,
Moby Grape,
Motorama,
Scott Walker,
Chrome,
Crooked Eye,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Chris & Cosey,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Saints,
Albert Ayler,
Jawbox,
Lungfish,
Marine Girls,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
D'Angelo,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Tim Buckley,
Fela Kuti,
Wings,
Tomorrow,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fall,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Jeff Mills,
Audionom,
Cecil Taylor,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Soft Machine,
Boredoms,
Whodini,
Rotary Connection,
The Slits,
Bill Near,
Minny Pops,
The Real Kids,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Ronan,
Aloha Tigers,
Lightning Bolt,
Juan Atkins,
The Techniques,
Essential Logic,
Ultravox,
Man Eating Sloth,
OOIOO,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Offenders,
Au Pairs,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Bobbi Humphrey,
New Age Steppers,
The Litter,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Black Moon,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo, Kool G Rap & DJ Polo.
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.