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 Kenya and from Tehran.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 The Names to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Jandek. All the underground hits.
All Sad Lovers and Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The United States of America,
Panda Bear,
Anthony Braxton,
Shoche,
Kurtis Blow,
Masters at Work,
Black Pus,
Harpers Bizarre,
Slave,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fela Kuti,
Robert Görl,
Motorama,
Fatback Band,
The Music Machine,
The Gladiators,
Bobby Sherman,
The Last Poets,
Stereo Dub,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Residents,
Nation of Ulysses,
Connie Case,
Tom Boy,
Thee Headcoats,
Blossom Toes,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Prince Buster,
Bad Manners,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Star Department,
The Fortunes,
Wasted Youth,
Robert Wyatt,
The Divine Comedy,
Gang Starr,
Das Ding,
Boredoms,
David McCallum,
Duran Duran,
DNA,
Moebius,
Index,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Quando Quango,
Minutemen,
Wire,
Desert Stars,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Cure,
Arthur Verocai,
Essential Logic,
Henry Cow,
John Coltrane,
The Doors,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Fugs,
Pulsallama,
Lou Christie,
Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks, Porter Ricks.
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.