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 Tanzania and from Winnipeg.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Funky Four + One to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minnie Riperton record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Andrew Hill,
Blancmange,
The New Christs,
DNA,
Goldenarms,
The Modern Lovers,
Deepchord,
The Shadows of Knight,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Normal,
Animal Collective,
Pantytec,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Misunderstood,
The Five Americans,
Gang Starr,
Avey Tare,
Unrelated Segments,
Banda Bassotti,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Masters at Work,
Kool Moe Dee,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lower 48,
Crash Course in Science,
Television Personalities,
The Buckinghams,
Donald Byrd,
The Cramps,
Panda Bear,
The Saints,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Niagra,
The Doors,
Glenn Branca,
Godley & Creme,
The Pretty Things,
Radiohead,
Q65,
Second Layer,
Slick Rick,
Janne Schatter,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Dirtbombs,
Black Bananas,
Model 500,
Bush Tetras,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Minutemen,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Fugs,
Susan Cadogan,
Y Pants,
Nik Kershaw,
Lakeside,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Searchers,
Radio Birdman,
Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu, Letta Mbulu.
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.