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 Mexico and from Bologna.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 American Breed to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Lonnie Liston Smith. All the underground hits.
All The Moleskins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Khruangbin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Surgeon,
Nirvana,
Monolake,
Schoolly D,
Silicon Teens,
The Last Poets,
Harmonia,
Parry Music,
Warsaw,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pulsallama,
The Busters,
John Holt,
Ornette Coleman,
Jeru the Damaja,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Neon Judgement,
Dorothy Ashby,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Sound,
The Human League,
Das Ding,
Saccharine Trust,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pet Shop Boys,
Brass Construction,
The Doors,
Graham Central Station,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Donald Byrd,
Bad Manners,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Magma,
The Victims,
John Lydon,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Mad Mike,
Rosa Yemen,
The Remains,
Minny Pops,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Wings,
Jacob Miller,
Underground Resistance,
Sex Pistols,
L. Decosne,
The Selecter,
DNA,
Ohio Players,
Television Personalities,
Cheater Slicks,
Fatback Band,
Chris Corsano,
Panda Bear,
Loose Ends,
Ponytail,
LL Cool J,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.