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 Calgary.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Real Kids to the disco 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 Ornette Coleman. All the underground hits.
All Spoonie Gee tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Talk Talk 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
The Litter,
Andrew Hill,
Ponytail,
Underground Resistance,
The Fire Engines,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Davy DMX,
The Remains,
K-Klass,
OOIOO,
the Soft Cell,
John Coltrane,
Glenn Branca,
The Young Rascals,
Index,
The Count Five,
Ronnie Foster,
Man Eating Sloth,
June of 44,
Chrome,
Aaron Thompson,
AZ,
Reuben Wilson,
The Techniques,
Eli Mardock,
Gang Starr,
Gong,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Lungfish,
Delon & Dalcan,
Massinfluence,
X-Ray Spex,
Essential Logic,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wasted Youth,
Boogie Down Productions,
Ralphi Rosario,
Shuggie Otis,
DNA,
Althea and Donna,
David Axelrod,
Ultimate Spinach,
48th St. Collective,
The Motions,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Eddi Front,
Livin' Joy,
Tubeway Army,
Marmalade,
Radiohead,
the Normal,
Rites of Spring,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Mr. Review,
Erykah Badu,
F. McDonald,
Arcadia,
Hoover,
Nils Olav,
Black Sheep,
Adolescents,
Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans, Subhumans.
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.