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 Cyprus and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 The Music Machine to the grunge 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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultramagnetic MC's record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Idris Muhammad,
Groovy Waters,
Khruangbin,
Babytalk,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Minny Pops,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Happenings,
K-Klass,
Darondo,
Mark Hollis,
Marcia Griffiths,
Banda Bassotti,
the Association,
The Tremeloes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Archie Shepp,
Eddi Front,
Minutemen,
The Smoke,
Max Romeo,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Leaves,
the Fania All-Stars,
Radiohead,
Nirvana,
Tres Demented,
Morten Harket,
The Remains,
Adolescents,
The Residents,
Radio Birdman,
Arthur Verocai,
Gang Green,
Wolf Eyes,
The Seeds,
Sun Ra,
Kool Moe Dee,
Brand Nubian,
The Dead C,
Deepchord,
Clear Light,
Roxy Music,
The Selecter,
Cluster,
Mantronix,
Thompson Twins,
The Martian,
Slick Rick,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jawbox,
Circle Jerks,
Connie Case,
Radiopuhelimet,
Animal Collective,
Judy Mowatt,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe, Ajijia Myrayebe.
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.