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 Bhutan and from Toronto.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the jazz 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 Vaughan Mason & Crew. All the underground hits.
All Alton Ellis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Hood 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stetsasonic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Matthew Bourne,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pierre Henry,
Vainqueur,
This Heat,
Jawbox,
the Sonics,
Franke,
Shuggie Otis,
Scientists,
Absolute Body Control,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Sex Pistols,
Gang Green,
Cymande,
Cal Tjader,
The Litter,
The Buckinghams,
Blancmange,
Severed Heads,
Fela Kuti,
The Gories,
The Motions,
Royal Trux,
Drexciya,
Neu!,
Sight & Sound,
Rekid,
Oblivians,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
These Immortal Souls,
Yaz,
U.S. Maple,
The Seeds,
The Sound,
Outsiders,
Tres Demented,
Kool Moe Dee,
Siglo XX,
The Fire Engines,
Von Mondo,
The Selecter,
Eve St. Jones,
Slick Rick,
Crash Course in Science,
Loose Ends,
Skarface,
Al Stewart,
Tim Buckley,
Bluetip,
Motorama,
Laurel Aitken,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scrapy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Swell Maps,
China Crisis,
Nation of Ulysses,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jacob Miller,
New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers, New Age Steppers.
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.