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 Micronesia and from Seoul.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Blossom Toes to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Eric Dolphy. All the underground hits.
All Hoover tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every London Community Gospel Choir record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
Amazonics,
Iggy Pop,
Joyce Sims,
Slick Rick,
The Saints,
Donny Hathaway,
Blossom Toes,
Moebius,
The Pretty Things,
Delon & Dalcan,
T.S.O.L.,
Swans,
Marmalade,
The Blackbyrds,
Sam Rivers,
The Doors,
X-102,
Sister Nancy,
Soul II Soul,
Max Romeo,
Idris Muhammad,
Amon Düül,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Desert Stars,
Charles Mingus,
This Heat,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Marcia Griffiths,
The Fuzztones,
Bluetip,
The Alarm Clocks,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Last Poets,
Fela Kuti,
Inner City,
Kenny Larkin,
June Days,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Hardrive,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Human League,
Wings,
Chris & Cosey,
Lakeside,
The Real Kids,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Blake Baxter,
Boz Scaggs,
Niagra,
Faust,
The Gun Club,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Yazoo,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Angry Samoans,
Magazine,
Soulsonic Force,
Camouflage,
D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo, D'Angelo.
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.