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 Colombia and from New York.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 mellotron 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 Sonny Sharrock to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Zero Boys. All the underground hits.
All Absolute Body Control tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every U.S. Maple record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Warsaw record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Flock of Seagulls,
Alice Coltrane,
H. Thieme,
Fluxion,
Audionom,
The Sonics,
Aaron Thompson,
Alphaville,
Sex Pistols,
Bobby Womack,
Warren Ellis,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ultra Naté,
The Mummies,
Pagans,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Hardrive,
Pussy Galore,
Metal Thangz,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Marc Almond,
The Index,
Pharoah Sanders,
Curtis Mayfield,
Pere Ubu,
Sarah Menescal,
Bobby Sherman,
Don Cherry,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Fugazi,
The Wake,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The Fugs,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Qualms,
Excepter,
Ronan,
Motorama,
Marshall Jefferson,
Buzzcocks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Sandy B,
Jeru the Damaja,
Unrelated Segments,
Carl Craig,
Theoretical Girls,
Ken Boothe,
Stetsasonic,
Howard Jones,
X-Ray Spex,
AZ,
Royal Trux,
Joey Negro,
The Skatalites,
Man Parrish,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Lakeside,
Quadrant,
Mars,
Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye, Marvin Gaye.
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.