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 Belize and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Sandy B to the grime 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Surgeon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Names record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minutemen,
Duran Duran,
Public Enemy,
Vainqueur,
Prince Buster,
Aloha Tigers,
Warren Ellis,
Iggy Pop,
Throbbing Gristle,
Deepchord,
Crispian St. Peters,
June Days,
Main Source,
Letta Mbulu,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Germs,
Piero Umiliani,
Eve St. Jones,
Technova,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Eric B and Rakim,
Young Marble Giants,
Bill Wells,
Buzzcocks,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Theoretical Girls,
Josef K,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
JFA,
Severed Heads,
Whodini,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Gastr Del Sol,
Babytalk,
The Smoke,
Y Pants,
Siglo XX,
Delta 5,
L. Decosne,
Blake Baxter,
Easy Going,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
cv313,
Joe Finger,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Marvin Gaye,
Jeff Mills,
Sarah Menescal,
Sugar Minott,
EPMD,
Kurtis Blow,
Eddi Front,
Barrington Levy,
Blossom Toes,
Camouflage,
Kerri Chandler,
The Dirtbombs,
Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone, Grauzone.
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.