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 Georgia and from Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the funk 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 Morten Harket. All the underground hits.
All Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Roy Ayers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
The Evens,
Cameo,
Isaac Hayes,
the Swans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Anthony Braxton,
The Gladiators,
The Skatalites,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Fania All-Stars,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Grass Roots,
Ten City,
John Foxx,
Quantec,
Nirvana,
Charles Mingus,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Livin' Joy,
Erasure,
Matthew Halsall,
Crooked Eye,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Juan Atkins,
Trumans Water,
Hardrive,
Ice-T,
The Tremeloes,
Dead Boys,
Yusef Lateef,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
A Certain Ratio,
Nico,
Michelle Simonal,
MC5,
The Beau Brummels,
Subhumans,
Aural Exciters,
John Cale,
Pulsallama,
Marmalade,
Bill Wells,
Warsaw,
Avey Tare,
Banda Bassotti,
Kool Moe Dee,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Techniques,
Magma,
Hoover,
Crispy Ambulance,
Vainqueur,
Roger Hodgson,
Henry Cow,
The Monochrome Set,
The Flesh Eaters,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lou Christie,
Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy, Eric Dolphy.
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.