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 Albania and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Ice-T to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Rosa Yemen. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Misunderstood record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scrapy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Yaz,
Theoretical Girls,
Aaron Thompson,
Black Pus,
Godley & Creme,
Maleditus Sound,
The Gories,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Glambeats Corp.,
Skaos,
Outsiders,
Panda Bear,
Eli Mardock,
Eden Ahbez,
Lebanon Hanover,
Donald Byrd,
John Foxx,
Amon Düül,
Nick Fraelich,
Ken Boothe,
Neu!,
Zapp,
Blossom Toes,
Ultravox,
The Smoke,
This Heat,
Mars,
Fluxion,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ornette Coleman,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Brick,
Public Image Ltd.,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rapeman,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Banda Bassotti,
Los Fastidios,
Sexual Harrassment,
The United States of America,
Tres Demented,
Kool Moe Dee,
Cal Tjader,
The Fire Engines,
DJ Sneak,
Siglo XX,
The Evens,
Gang Gang Dance,
Albert Ayler,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Depeche Mode,
Jimmy McGriff,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
U.S. Maple,
Arthur Verocai,
Ronan,
Infiniti,
The Walker Brothers,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.