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 Liberia and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Colin Newman to the funk 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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic. All the underground hits.
All June Days 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ice-T record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Procol Harum,
Max Romeo,
Erykah Badu,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eric Dolphy,
Archie Shepp,
Moebius,
The Evens,
John Holt,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Letta Mbulu,
Alice Coltrane,
The Alarm Clocks,
Bluetip,
Kaleidoscope,
Harpers Bizarre,
Hashim,
Mark Hollis,
Inner City,
L. Decosne,
Altered Images,
Gastr Del Sol,
T.S.O.L.,
Skarface,
Surgeon,
Japan,
The Blackbyrds,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
June of 44,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tropical Tobacco,
The Walker Brothers,
The J.B.'s,
Fort Wilson Riot,
John Foxx,
Scrapy,
Patti Smith,
Blossom Toes,
The Toasters,
Fela Kuti,
The Dave Clark Five,
Silicon Teens,
Audionom,
Thompson Twins,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Second Layer,
Quando Quango,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gang Starr,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Monks,
R.M.O.,
Arab on Radar,
The Shadows of Knight,
Big Daddy Kane,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Animal Collective,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Fire Engines,
Interpol,
the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics, the Sonics.
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.