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 East Timor 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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Big Daddy Kane to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 EPMD. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Los Fastidios,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Technova,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Fugazi,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Mad Mike,
Japan,
Wasted Youth,
The Red Krayola,
Main Source,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pussy Galore,
Youth Brigade,
Kayak,
Joe Smooth,
Suburban Knight,
Howard Jones,
Aaron Thompson,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Agitation Free,
Iggy Pop,
Mr. Review,
Crime,
The Music Machine,
Don Cherry,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Sound,
DJ Style,
The Fortunes,
Spoonie Gee,
The Pop Group,
Drexciya,
New Age Steppers,
The Standells,
Deadbeat,
Q65,
Subhumans,
Little Man,
Leonard Cohen,
Zero Boys,
Oneida,
Warren Ellis,
Crispy Ambulance,
Duran Duran,
Dual Sessions,
T. Rex,
Marc Almond,
Intrusion,
Mark Hollis,
Peter & Gordon,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Traffic Nightmare,
Jacques Brel,
The Doors,
Crispian St. Peters,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Deepchord,
The Detroit Cobras,
Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics, Amazonics.
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.