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 Belize and from Stockholm.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the marimba 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 Yellowson to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T.S.O.L. 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Animal Collective,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Alphaville,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Grey Daturas,
This Heat,
Joe Smooth,
The Index,
Andrew Hill,
Livin' Joy,
Dual Sessions,
The Neon Judgement,
Yazoo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Dennis Brown,
Jacques Brel,
Hasil Adkins,
The Cramps,
Quantec,
John Foxx,
The United States of America,
Scientists,
The Gories,
Crispian St. Peters,
Mad Mike,
The Martian,
Kenny Larkin,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Selecter,
The Tremeloes,
Aloha Tigers,
Ken Boothe,
Rapeman,
Scott Walker,
Ohio Players,
Mission of Burma,
The Knickerbockers,
Audionom,
Quadrant,
Bill Wells,
Anthony Braxton,
F. McDonald,
Davy DMX,
Little Man,
Siglo XX,
Bobby Womack,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Crash Course in Science,
New York Dolls,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Country Teasers,
The Monochrome Set,
Joyce Sims,
Das Ding,
Susan Cadogan,
The Barracudas,
Robert Hood,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.