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 Winnipeg.
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 1963 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Spandau Ballet to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 The Seeds. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Radio Birdman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Schoolly D,
Ohio Players,
Animal Collective,
The Fire Engines,
ABC,
Lucky Dragons,
Ash Ra Tempel,
John Cale,
Shoche,
Quantec,
E-Dancer,
Kerri Chandler,
Funky Four + One,
Deakin,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Franke,
Wasted Youth,
Smog,
Trumans Water,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Ten City,
Andrew Hill,
Pagans,
Bob Dylan,
Suburban Knight,
Tres Demented,
Stereo Dub,
Con Funk Shun,
The Invisible,
John Holt,
Cluster,
Sun City Girls,
John Coltrane,
Anakelly,
Yusef Lateef,
Ice-T,
In Retrospect,
Suicide,
Hashim,
Visage,
Echospace,
Livin' Joy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Saccharine Trust,
Soul II Soul,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kenny Larkin,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Eurythmics,
Deepchord,
Sex Pistols,
DJ Style,
Oblivians,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Crispian St. Peters,
Frankie Knuckles,
Yellowson,
Model 500,
Lou Christie,
Faraquet,
Jawbox,
Audionom,
Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios, Los Fastidios.
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.