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 Algeria and from Salvador.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Adolescents to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Slave tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson 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 rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Audionom,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
John Cale,
Charles Mingus,
Oneida,
Scrapy,
Mandrill,
Crash Course in Science,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Star Department,
Idris Muhammad,
Angry Samoans,
Radio Birdman,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Blackbyrds,
Tom Boy,
the Association,
Nick Fraelich,
Livin' Joy,
The Dirtbombs,
The Move,
Johnny Osbourne,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
F. McDonald,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
kango's stein massive,
Urselle,
Spoonie Gee,
Minny Pops,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Robert Wyatt,
Sarah Menescal,
The Electric Prunes,
The Names,
Eve St. Jones,
Unwound,
Jesper Dahlback,
DJ Sneak,
Altered Images,
Pagans,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Fugs,
Joensuu 1685,
The Monks,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Moody Blues,
Ossler,
Albert Ayler,
Maleditus Sound,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Slits,
Swell Maps,
Country Teasers,
The Blues Magoos,
Marine Girls,
Newcleus,
Shuggie Otis,
Deepchord,
Desert Stars,
Gabor Szabo,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk, Talk Talk.
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.