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 Vietnam 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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Gil Scott Heron to the grime 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 Funkadelic. All the underground hits.
All the Human League tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DeepChord presents Echospace record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Red Lorry Yellow Lorry record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kerrie Biddell,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bauhaus,
Glenn Branca,
Traffic Nightmare,
48th St. Collective,
Goldenarms,
Amon Düül II,
Janne Schatter,
Pantytec,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sällskapet,
John Holt,
Moebius,
Thompson Twins,
The Fortunes,
Audionom,
Ludus,
The Last Poets,
Loose Ends,
In Retrospect,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Tubeway Army,
The Skatalites,
Radio Birdman,
Crispy Ambulance,
Black Flag,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Lalo Schifrin,
Roger Hodgson,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Invisible,
Don Cherry,
Cybotron,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Anthony Braxton,
Tears for Fears,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sex Pistols,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Livin' Joy,
Charles Mingus,
Ice-T,
Dorothy Ashby,
Unrelated Segments,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Roy Ayers,
The Smoke,
Tropical Tobacco,
Matthew Halsall,
The Wake,
The Music Machine,
Glambeats Corp.,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Underground Resistance,
The Vogues,
Danielle Patucci,
Oneida,
8 Eyed Spy,
Hardrive,
Fatback Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines, Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines.
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.