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 Kyrgyzstan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 Toronto and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Scan 7 to the punk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Davy DMX tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 güiro and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson 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?
The Velvet Underground,
Jawbox,
the Normal,
Scion,
48th St. Collective,
Glenn Branca,
The Slits,
Khruangbin,
Joensuu 1685,
Ten City,
The Happenings,
B.T. Express,
Bill Wells,
Rekid,
Andrew Hill,
Main Source,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Real Kids,
Flamin' Groovies,
Boogie Down Productions,
Crispian St. Peters,
Minutemen,
The Five Americans,
June of 44,
Mission of Burma,
Freddie Wadling,
Circle Jerks,
The Vogues,
The Dead C,
Donny Hathaway,
The Cure,
Drive Like Jehu,
Stereo Dub,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Swell Maps,
Moby Grape,
The Red Krayola,
The Smoke,
Index,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bobby Byrd,
Sixth Finger,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Fire Engines,
Ultravox,
Lindisfarne,
Fear,
Tropical Tobacco,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Surgeon,
The Walker Brothers,
The J.B.'s,
The Angels of Light,
FM Einheit,
Radio Birdman,
Wings,
The Martian,
Icehouse,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Barracudas,
Pole,
Faraquet,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.