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 Colombia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Toronto.
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 sitar 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 Black Pus to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth. All the underground hits.
All Sexual Harrassment tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sly & The Family Stone,
Sun Ra,
Harmonia,
Masters at Work,
Jawbox,
The Slits,
Goldenarms,
Kayak,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
X-Ray Spex,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Electric Prunes,
The Leaves,
the Fania All-Stars,
DJ Sneak,
Soulsonic Force,
Idris Muhammad,
X-101,
Connie Case,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Durutti Column,
Simply Red,
The Kinks,
The Gun Club,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Quantec,
Magazine,
Malaria!,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Mark Hollis,
Infiniti,
Scientists,
Erykah Badu,
Pharoah Sanders,
Scion,
Blancmange,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ultravox,
a-ha,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Jandek,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Ronnie Foster,
One Last Wish,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Eve St. Jones,
The Grass Roots,
Bauhaus,
Rekid,
Babytalk,
The Offenders,
Slave,
Monks,
Bill Wells,
Mr. Review,
Blossom Toes,
Technova,
Country Teasers,
Motorama,
Swell Maps,
David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod, David Axelrod.
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.