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 Montenegro and from Glasgow.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Kenny Larkin to the rap 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 B.T. Express. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bush Tetras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Terry Callier,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Neon Judgement,
Rites of Spring,
Delon & Dalcan,
Funky Four + One,
Marc Almond,
The Durutti Column,
Shuggie Otis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Rufus Thomas,
Crispian St. Peters,
Heaven 17,
The Count Five,
The Fuzztones,
Scratch Acid,
Gichy Dan,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Skatalites,
The Modern Lovers,
Jerry's Kids,
the Slits,
The Pretty Things,
Zapp,
The Gories,
Sun City Girls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Scrapy,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Human League,
Scientists,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
the Bar-Kays,
Chris Corsano,
Max Romeo,
The Barracudas,
Darondo,
Jacob Miller,
June of 44,
The Gun Club,
Alison Limerick,
Index,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sam Rivers,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Jimmy McGriff,
Youth Brigade,
DJ Style,
Leonard Cohen,
Arab on Radar,
The Blues Magoos,
Bang On A Can,
Throbbing Gristle,
Pulsallama,
Das Ding,
Jeff Lynne,
The Star Department,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.