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 Sweden and from Beijing.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Chris Corsano to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Fluxion. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 marimba and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Chrome,
Erasure,
Tres Demented,
The Dead C,
Jeru the Damaja,
Patti Smith,
8 Eyed Spy,
Rosa Yemen,
PIL,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Jeff Mills,
Maleditus Sound,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Blackbyrds,
The Busters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Smiths,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Fuzztones,
Roxy Music,
The Young Rascals,
Roy Ayers,
The Birthday Party,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Goldenarms,
Spandau Ballet,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Scratch Acid,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Crime,
The Searchers,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Blues Magoos,
June Days,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Tubeway Army,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Dirtbombs,
The Modern Lovers,
Slave,
Iggy Pop,
Ralphi Rosario,
Morten Harket,
X-102,
Al Stewart,
Aaron Thompson,
Excepter,
The Slits,
Eric Copeland,
Eric Dolphy,
Kool Moe Dee,
Vladislav Delay,
Outsiders,
Toni Rubio,
Surgeon,
The Fugs,
Alton Ellis,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.