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 South Africa and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 spring reverb 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 Amazonics to the funk 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 Second Layer. All the underground hits.
All The Leaves tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tom Boy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Rakim,
These Immortal Souls,
The Evens,
The Stooges,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Eric Dolphy,
Von Mondo,
Slave,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
the Fania All-Stars,
Leonard Cohen,
Bootsy Collins,
Kaleidoscope,
The Cramps,
Procol Harum,
The Fuzztones,
Mars,
Public Image Ltd.,
Reuben Wilson,
Yellowson,
the Sonics,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Blues Magoos,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Ludus,
Jeru the Damaja,
Little Man,
Rekid,
The Index,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mary Jane Girls,
Infiniti,
Average White Band,
Bobby Byrd,
Eden Ahbez,
Ornette Coleman,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Selecter,
The Tremeloes,
Marc Almond,
June Days,
Eli Mardock,
Bill Near,
Bad Manners,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
B.T. Express,
Throbbing Gristle,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Peter & Gordon,
Lou Christie,
cv313,
Rosa Yemen,
Zapp,
Harry Pussy,
Sällskapet,
Skarface,
The Birthday Party,
Todd Rundgren,
Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins, Juan Atkins.
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.