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 Oman and from Sao Paulo.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dawn Penn to the jazz kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Manfred Mann's Earth Band. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lafayette Afro Rock Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Absolute Body Control,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Magma,
Warsaw,
Gastr Del Sol,
Dawn Penn,
June of 44,
Grandmaster Flash,
Jerry's Kids,
Peter and Kerry,
F. McDonald,
Hoover,
Camberwell Now,
Judy Mowatt,
Marshall Jefferson,
Trumans Water,
Deakin,
Pere Ubu,
The Busters,
The Slackers,
Mark Hollis,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Searchers,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Yaz,
Pagans,
Ludus,
Icehouse,
Wasted Youth,
Laurel Aitken,
A Flock of Seagulls,
MDC,
Ultra Naté,
Outsiders,
Alice Coltrane,
Kayak,
The Selecter,
a-ha,
The Birthday Party,
Marc Almond,
Swans,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Main Source,
Brick,
Colin Newman,
The Pretty Things,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Reagan Youth,
Black Sheep,
The Evens,
Neil Young,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sonic Youth,
the Bar-Kays,
Robert Wyatt,
Marcia Griffiths,
Tropical Tobacco,
Zapp,
Saccharine Trust,
Harry Pussy,
Maurizio,
Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow, Tomorrow.
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.