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 Congo and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manchester.
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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the guitar 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282 to the funk 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Lydon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Panda Bear,
Scientists,
Heaven 17,
Skarface,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ultravox,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Cowsills,
The Angels of Light,
Deepchord,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Scratch Acid,
The Motions,
Easy Going,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Pantaleimon,
Grauzone,
T.S.O.L.,
Johnny Osbourne,
Nico,
Alice Coltrane,
The Offenders,
Jeff Mills,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Fugs,
Rosa Yemen,
The Pop Group,
Sonny Sharrock,
Sex Pistols,
Boredoms,
The Gladiators,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Franke,
Dave Gahan,
Skaos,
Mr. Review,
Inner City,
Cluster,
Gichy Dan,
The Invisible,
Archie Shepp,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gang of Four,
Eden Ahbez,
Toni Rubio,
Barry Ungar,
Desert Stars,
Lyres,
The Victims,
Sugar Minott,
Saccharine Trust,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Suburban Knight,
Sam Rivers,
Bad Manners,
Swell Maps,
X-101, X-101, X-101, X-101.
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.