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 Afghanistan and from Milan.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 mellotron 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 Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sonics. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Arab on Radar 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Skarface,
Eric B and Rakim,
Letta Mbulu,
Intrusion,
Nas,
D'Angelo,
Surgeon,
Jacob Miller,
The Moleskins,
Tears for Fears,
Bad Manners,
The Vogues,
Hashim,
Laurel Aitken,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Real Kids,
The Black Dice,
the Germs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Mr. Review,
Aural Exciters,
Public Image Ltd.,
Flash Fearless,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Malaria!,
Spoonie Gee,
Dorothy Ashby,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Suburban Knight,
Althea and Donna,
Junior Murvin,
Delon & Dalcan,
Robert Wyatt,
Avey Tare,
Aaron Thompson,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Star Department,
Soulsonic Force,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Mojo Men,
Aswad,
Angry Samoans,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Nik Kershaw,
The Human League,
Graham Central Station,
Cameo,
Agent Orange,
Arthur Verocai,
Mary Jane Girls,
Schoolly D,
Crooked Eye,
Robert Hood,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Martian,
Gang Starr,
48th St. Collective,
MDC,
Khruangbin,
Barclay James Harvest,
Harry Pussy,
Moebius,
The Offenders,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.