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 Laos and from Lyon.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Scott Walker + Sunn O))) to the funk 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 ABC. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Big Daddy Kane 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Thompson Twins record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spoonie Gee,
John Cale,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
the Germs,
Procol Harum,
Radio Birdman,
Lakeside,
The Monks,
Rod Modell,
Bootsy Collins,
Camouflage,
Sällskapet,
Blake Baxter,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Searchers,
Robert Wyatt,
Soul II Soul,
Fela Kuti,
Glambeats Corp.,
Malaria!,
Flipper,
Wasted Youth,
The Saints,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Smiths,
Jacob Miller,
Niagra,
Davy DMX,
Brand Nubian,
Babytalk,
Josef K,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Rekid,
Roy Ayers,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Star Department,
Livin' Joy,
Jerry's Kids,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Electric Prunes,
Don Cherry,
Fugazi,
The Music Machine,
Yusef Lateef,
The Slackers,
Connie Case,
Darondo,
Lower 48,
Ultimate Spinach,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Eurythmics,
Young Marble Giants,
Panda Bear,
Bill Wells,
Severed Heads,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Martian,
the Association,
Q65, Q65, Q65, Q65.
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.