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 Iraq and from Salvador.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 clarinet 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 The Zeros to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mark Hollis. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soul Sonic Force 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cure record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Underground Resistance,
Q and Not U,
Minor Threat,
Kaleidoscope,
Robert Hood,
Tubeway Army,
Young Marble Giants,
Lou Reed,
Half Japanese,
The Detroit Cobras,
Traffic Nightmare,
Animal Collective,
Stereo Dub,
Country Teasers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Pretty Things,
The Cosmic Jokers,
June of 44,
Henry Cow,
Ten City,
Marmalade,
Drexciya,
David Bowie,
Joy Division,
Nik Kershaw,
Cal Tjader,
Mission of Burma,
Skriet,
Johnny Clarke,
Tropical Tobacco,
Parry Music,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Surgeon,
Marshall Jefferson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gichy Dan,
Khruangbin,
Make Up,
Aural Exciters,
Lungfish,
Alison Limerick,
These Immortal Souls,
Bobby Byrd,
The Cure,
Black Sheep,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Inner City,
The Raincoats,
T.S.O.L.,
Scion,
the Soft Cell,
Ponytail,
Ohio Players,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Doors,
Rapeman,
Barbara Tucker,
Brand Nubian,
Au Pairs,
Faust,
Vladislav Delay,
The Kinks,
Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion, Fluxion.
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.