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 Cyprus and from Stockholm.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Manchester.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 EPMD to the grunge 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 Eden Ahbez. All the underground hits.
All Pere Ubu tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Holt,
Amon Düül,
Mark Hollis,
Supertramp,
Los Fastidios,
Arab on Radar,
Cymande,
Donny Hathaway,
Angry Samoans,
E-Dancer,
the Swans,
The Dirtbombs,
Robert Hood,
Sixth Finger,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
the Human League,
Qualms,
Eden Ahbez,
Oneida,
Organ,
Jacob Miller,
The Raincoats,
MC5,
Radio Birdman,
Joyce Sims,
Lower 48,
Moby Grape,
Kerri Chandler,
Ralphi Rosario,
Public Enemy,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Easy Going,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Yusef Lateef,
Iggy Pop,
Gichy Dan,
Drive Like Jehu,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Real Kids,
Livin' Joy,
Flash Fearless,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Alice Coltrane,
Black Bananas,
Robert Wyatt,
Guru Guru,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ultra Naté,
Sound Behaviour,
MDC,
June of 44,
Monolake,
Quando Quango,
R.M.O.,
Ohio Players,
The Residents,
Susan Cadogan,
Malaria!,
Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders, Outsiders.
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.