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 Sudan and from Houston.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and New York.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Terry Callier to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Darondo. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Victims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Audionom,
Sex Pistols,
Peter and Kerry,
June Days,
Quadrant,
Cymande,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
R.M.O.,
The Grass Roots,
DJ Style,
H. Thieme,
John Holt,
Mars,
Ice-T,
The Modern Lovers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Sun Ra,
Rekid,
Gang Starr,
Ponytail,
Alton Ellis,
Visage,
KRS-One,
The Cramps,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Fat Boys,
Susan Cadogan,
Q65,
Amon Düül II,
B.T. Express,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Black Pus,
Wolf Eyes,
Robert Wyatt,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Alison Limerick,
The Raincoats,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Altered Images,
Aswad,
The Walker Brothers,
The Residents,
Minor Threat,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Unwound,
Excepter,
Agent Orange,
The Moody Blues,
Siglo XX,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pierre Henry,
Accadde A,
Lower 48,
Harry Pussy,
Eurythmics,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Blake Baxter,
Lungfish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound, Rhythm & Sound.
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.