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 Libya and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Bobbi Humphrey to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Lightning Bolt. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every AZ record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Maurizio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Doobie Brothers,
The Monks,
Quantec,
This Heat,
Don Cherry,
Swell Maps,
Bob Dylan,
Neu!,
Matthew Bourne,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Swans,
Kool Moe Dee,
Youth Brigade,
The Black Dice,
Eden Ahbez,
The Index,
The Leaves,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Moon,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Busters,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Spandau Ballet,
Avey Tare,
Aural Exciters,
The Fugs,
Siglo XX,
Harmonia,
Derrick May,
Pere Ubu,
Dark Day,
Pierre Henry,
Flash Fearless,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Nils Olav,
Bobby Womack,
The Fuzztones,
Surgeon,
Public Image Ltd.,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sam Rivers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gang of Four,
The Raincoats,
Iggy Pop,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jandek,
Scan 7,
Shuggie Otis,
D'Angelo,
Soul II Soul,
Clear Light,
Oblivians,
Sällskapet,
Davy DMX,
Donny Hathaway,
Barclay James Harvest,
Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi, Fugazi.
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.