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 Shanghai.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Andrew Hill to the grime 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 Siglo XX. All the underground hits.
All Rahsaan Roland Kirk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Index,
Cybotron,
Accadde A,
The Detroit Cobras,
Nik Kershaw,
Scratch Acid,
Cameo,
Davy DMX,
The Black Dice,
The Dead C,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Bad Manners,
Cluster,
Eric B and Rakim,
KRS-One,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Colin Newman,
Surgeon,
the Sonics,
AZ,
Visage,
The New Christs,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Eric Copeland,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Y Pants,
The Selecter,
Public Image Ltd.,
The American Breed,
David Bowie,
Rakim,
Joe Finger,
Warsaw,
Stockholm Monsters,
Glambeats Corp.,
Bauhaus,
Fad Gadget,
The Fugs,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
A Certain Ratio,
Television Personalities,
DJ Style,
The Gladiators,
Hoover,
Ossler,
Inner City,
Gang of Four,
Moss Icon,
Crispian St. Peters,
These Immortal Souls,
Radiohead,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Zapp,
The J.B.'s,
Reuben Wilson,
Gerry Rafferty,
X-102,
Don Cherry,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Sexual Harrassment,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Reagan Youth,
Gregory Isaacs,
X-101, X-101, X-101, X-101.
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.