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 Spain and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1961 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Velvet Underground to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Iggy Pop tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drive Like Jehu 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Royal Family And The Poor record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
R.M.O.,
Silicon Teens,
Rakim,
Gil Scott Heron,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Pantaleimon,
The Dead C,
One Last Wish,
Roger Hodgson,
Lungfish,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Wake,
Crash Course in Science,
Peter and Kerry,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Flipper,
Livin' Joy,
Kurtis Blow,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bill Near,
Chris & Cosey,
U.S. Maple,
Underground Resistance,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Inner City,
Patti Smith,
Banda Bassotti,
Ultimate Spinach,
Agent Orange,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Subhumans,
Guru Guru,
The J.B.'s,
KRS-One,
Aaron Thompson,
Lee Hazlewood,
Babytalk,
Ultra Naté,
The Names,
Carl Craig,
David Bowie,
Minnie Riperton,
Hot Snakes,
Jesper Dahlback,
Stereo Dub,
the Swans,
James White and The Blacks,
Trumans Water,
ABBA,
Chris Corsano,
The Evens,
Kayak,
Sun City Girls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Saccharine Trust,
Ossler,
Parry Music,
Thee Headcoats,
Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson, Bobby Hutcherson.
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.