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 Czech Republic and from Winnipeg.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Arcadia to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Popol Vuh record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 chamberlin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Joe & The Fish record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
Wolf Eyes,
Sandy B,
The Leaves,
The Angels of Light,
the Human League,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Yellowson,
The Divine Comedy,
The Sound,
Thee Headcoats,
Eric B and Rakim,
E-Dancer,
Arthur Verocai,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Freddie Wadling,
H. Thieme,
Bluetip,
Rekid,
Scott Walker,
Jacques Brel,
Iggy Pop,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Blackbyrds,
Delon & Dalcan,
Dennis Brown,
Absolute Body Control,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Metal Thangz,
The Sonics,
Warsaw,
Gang Gang Dance,
Don Cherry,
The Fuzztones,
Country Teasers,
The Star Department,
Duran Duran,
The Raincoats,
Lou Christie,
The Vogues,
The Flesh Eaters,
Swans,
Barry Ungar,
The Cramps,
Stetsasonic,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
the Fania All-Stars,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Silicon Teens,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Whodini,
Pole,
Popol Vuh,
Babytalk,
The Barracudas,
Black Bananas,
Main Source,
Eric Dolphy,
Gang Green,
Trumans Water,
Crime,
FM Einheit,
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.