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 Cambodia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970.
I was there at the first Onyeabor show in Enugu.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 oboe 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 Index to the punk 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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All Rufus Thomas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monolake 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron 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 organ and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mission of Burma,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
China Crisis,
Nas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Monolake,
Colin Newman,
Tim Buckley,
Negative Approach,
Slave,
The Remains,
Sister Nancy,
Lower 48,
Crispy Ambulance,
10cc,
Mo-Dettes,
Shuggie Otis,
Laurel Aitken,
Lyres,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sexual Harrassment,
Ken Boothe,
Metal Thangz,
K-Klass,
Man Parrish,
Harmonia,
Theoretical Girls,
Erasure,
Barry Ungar,
The Zeros,
The Offenders,
Swell Maps,
Girls At Our Best!,
Scan 7,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Brothers Johnson,
Pierre Henry,
The Associates,
Anakelly,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Alison Limerick,
The Music Machine,
Black Sheep,
Inner City,
Toni Rubio,
Easy Going,
Harry Pussy,
Quantec,
Section 25,
Whodini,
Glenn Branca,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Doors,
The Cowsills,
The Real Kids,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Intrusion,
The Busters,
Khruangbin,
Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick, Slick Rick.
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.