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 Bhutan and from Spokane.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 arpeggiator 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 Ornette Coleman to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Camberwell Now. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Don Cherry record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tim Buckley record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Vogues,
The Gladiators,
Angry Samoans,
Television Personalities,
Tres Demented,
Dead Boys,
Funkadelic,
Quadrant,
Minutemen,
Kurtis Blow,
Pulsallama,
a-ha,
The Fall,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Television,
Drexciya,
Glambeats Corp.,
Mantronix,
Procol Harum,
Roy Ayers,
Mr. Review,
Erykah Badu,
Jacob Miller,
Maurizio,
Chrome,
Barry Ungar,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Human League,
Little Man,
Wings,
Zapp,
Visage,
Eli Mardock,
Jacques Brel,
the Slits,
Talk Talk,
Ultra Naté,
Hasil Adkins,
Bang On A Can,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Goldenarms,
Vladislav Delay,
the Association,
Patti Smith,
Mark Hollis,
Sun Ra,
The Doobie Brothers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sound Behaviour,
Loose Ends,
Schoolly D,
The Invisible,
Shuggie Otis,
Boz Scaggs,
Marmalade,
Don Cherry,
Soul Sonic Force,
Joe Smooth,
The Skatalites,
Flipper,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.