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 Kiribati and from Jakarta.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Pharoah Sanders to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Durutti Column. All the underground hits.
All Angry Samoans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Los Fastidios 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Newcleus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Colin Newman,
A Certain Ratio,
Sixth Finger,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Davy DMX,
The Searchers,
Nas,
The Fortunes,
Susan Cadogan,
Ronnie Foster,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Interpol,
Pagans,
Essential Logic,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
L. Decosne,
The Saints,
Bobby Sherman,
Fat Boys,
Alphaville,
Lightning Bolt,
These Immortal Souls,
Jawbox,
Bluetip,
Cecil Taylor,
ABBA,
Crash Course in Science,
Rufus Thomas,
Metal Thangz,
Kevin Saunderson,
Don Cherry,
Minnie Riperton,
Slave,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Fall,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Gang Green,
cv313,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Zapp,
Ultravox,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Hot Snakes,
Nation of Ulysses,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
AZ,
Wolf Eyes,
The Last Poets,
Donald Byrd,
Minny Pops,
Animal Collective,
Procol Harum,
Sonic Youth,
Rotary Connection,
The Move, The Move, The Move, The Move.
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.