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 Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 A Certain Ratio to the techno kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Barrington Levy. All the underground hits.
All Oppenheimer Analysis tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sisters of Mercy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
The Electric Prunes,
Fat Boys,
Electric Prunes,
Gerry Rafferty,
The United States of America,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dorothy Ashby,
Mo-Dettes,
Crispian St. Peters,
Monks,
Dave Gahan,
Jacob Miller,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
D'Angelo,
Radio Birdman,
Easy Going,
The Zeros,
Sandy B,
Fort Wilson Riot,
AZ,
The Sonics,
The Knickerbockers,
Leonard Cohen,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sex Pistols,
Harmonia,
Yusef Lateef,
Peter and Kerry,
Ossler,
Soft Machine,
Scott Walker,
the Germs,
Delta 5,
Nils Olav,
the Association,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pulsallama,
Ronan,
Procol Harum,
Terrestrial Tones,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Smiths,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pylon,
Avey Tare,
Index,
The Grass Roots,
the Human League,
Anakelly,
The Dead C,
The Index,
Excepter,
The Evens,
The Count Five,
Alphaville,
The Alarm Clocks,
Kurtis Blow,
Kenny Larkin,
The Searchers,
Jesper Dahlback,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.