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 Suriname and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1965 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 snare 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 Swell Maps to the rap 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 10cc. All the underground hits.
All Bill Wells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Offenders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
Roxette,
The Last Poets,
Kerri Chandler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Scientists,
Arcadia,
Bronski Beat,
The Martian,
Mr. Review,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Grandmaster Flash,
Black Bananas,
Guru Guru,
Marc Almond,
Ken Boothe,
Khruangbin,
Soul Sonic Force,
Technova,
Ultra Naté,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Black Dice,
Godley & Creme,
Lakeside,
Swans,
Pierre Henry,
Little Man,
Gong,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Joyce Sims,
Fat Boys,
Barrington Levy,
Cheater Slicks,
The Shadows of Knight,
Crispy Ambulance,
Loose Ends,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Camberwell Now,
Scratch Acid,
Colin Newman,
The Grass Roots,
The Pop Group,
Minny Pops,
Can,
Robert Hood,
Pantaleimon,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Sällskapet,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Erykah Badu,
Neu!,
Liliput,
China Crisis,
Black Sheep,
Steve Hackett,
Big Daddy Kane,
Country Teasers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis, Shuggie Otis.
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.