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 Serbia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Darondo to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Camouflage tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Essential Logic 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Throbbing Gristle,
Girls At Our Best!,
Kayak,
Ornette Coleman,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Stereo Dub,
The Smoke,
The Angels of Light,
Hot Snakes,
ABC,
Camberwell Now,
Massinfluence,
Pantytec,
John Coltrane,
Radio Birdman,
Adolescents,
Siglo XX,
The Cramps,
Half Japanese,
Minor Threat,
Eric Dolphy,
Excepter,
Faust,
John Lydon,
Gang of Four,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rakim,
Amon Düül,
Nico,
ABBA,
Slick Rick,
This Heat,
Harmonia,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Nils Olav,
The Black Dice,
Blake Baxter,
The Moody Blues,
Ronan,
Echospace,
MDC,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Seeds,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Stooges,
Newcleus,
The Doobie Brothers,
Junior Murvin,
Todd Rundgren,
Pantaleimon,
The Vogues,
These Immortal Souls,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Bobby Byrd,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Shoche,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
LL Cool J,
Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants, Sad Lovers and Giants.
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.