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 Russia and from Portland.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 harpsichord 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 Hoover to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Bobby Sherman. All the underground hits.
All Yusef Lateef tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Joy Division,
Parry Music,
Patti Smith,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fall,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
48th St. Collective,
Television,
Quantec,
Cybotron,
X-102,
The Searchers,
Flamin' Groovies,
Buzzcocks,
Scott Walker,
Colin Newman,
The Residents,
EPMD,
Theoretical Girls,
Scan 7,
The Electric Prunes,
Moebius,
Altered Images,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
John Coltrane,
Second Layer,
Idris Muhammad,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nas,
Urselle,
Zapp,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
June of 44,
Crooked Eye,
Model 500,
Whodini,
Fluxion,
Johnny Osbourne,
Bauhaus,
Cal Tjader,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Agent Orange,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Black Sheep,
Hardrive,
Robert Görl,
Easy Going,
Spandau Ballet,
Quadrant,
L. Decosne,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Be Bop Deluxe,
the Normal,
Tres Demented,
The Remains,
the Association,
Grauzone,
Smog, Smog, Smog, Smog.
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.