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 Nauru and from Johannesburg.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Ultra Naté to the techno kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Tom Boy. All the underground hits.
All Gastr Del Sol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rhythim Is Rhythim record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Wire,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
CMW,
Kevin Saunderson,
Bootsy Collins,
Robert Hood,
The Gap Band,
Gil Scott Heron,
Bang On A Can,
Can,
Warsaw,
DNA,
Amon Düül II,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Masters at Work,
The Star Department,
Crispian St. Peters,
Agent Orange,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Guru Guru,
The Seeds,
Cluster,
Fatback Band,
X-101,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tomorrow,
Echospace,
The Residents,
Animal Collective,
Chrome,
London Community Gospel Choir,
This Heat,
Black Sheep,
Dawn Penn,
Marcia Griffiths,
Brand Nubian,
Michelle Simonal,
John Cale,
Man Parrish,
Black Bananas,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Remains,
Fugazi,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Gories,
Motorama,
John Holt,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Roger Hodgson,
The Blackbyrds,
Colin Newman,
48th St. Collective,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Public Enemy,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Swell Maps,
Excepter,
The Busters,
The Happenings,
The Pretty Things,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.