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 Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Crash Course in Science to the punk 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog. All the underground hits.
All Eric Dolphy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Henry Cow,
The Busters,
Frankie Knuckles,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
In Retrospect,
Mandrill,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
B.T. Express,
Shoche,
Con Funk Shun,
The Slits,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Seeds,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tomorrow,
Hoover,
Cal Tjader,
the Swans,
Cameo,
Fat Boys,
The Evens,
Warren Ellis,
The Fall,
JFA,
Soft Machine,
Lower 48,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Skatalites,
Gastr Del Sol,
Joey Negro,
Boogie Down Productions,
Freddie Wadling,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Quadrant,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rakim,
Inner City,
The Fugs,
Index,
Joyce Sims,
Marc Almond,
Blancmange,
New Age Steppers,
Derrick Morgan,
The New Christs,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Beau Brummels,
Saccharine Trust,
Organ,
Lalo Schifrin,
Moby Grape,
The Stooges,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Japan,
Q and Not U,
Byron Stingily,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Fuzztones,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))), Scott Walker + Sunn O))).
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.