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 Senegal and from Tehran.
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 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Minor Threat to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Human League. All the underground hits.
All Eve St. Jones tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sister Nancy,
Archie Shepp,
Jesper Dahlback,
Fat Boys,
Radio Birdman,
8 Eyed Spy,
Terrestrial Tones,
New Order,
Cal Tjader,
Peter & Gordon,
Accadde A,
B.T. Express,
Glambeats Corp.,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sixth Finger,
Agent Orange,
Television Personalities,
The Names,
Unrelated Segments,
Flipper,
Suburban Knight,
Soul Sonic Force,
Joe Finger,
Sällskapet,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Fort Wilson Riot,
48th St. Collective,
Loose Ends,
Rakim,
Iggy Pop,
Ponytail,
Gong,
Grey Daturas,
Delta 5,
Can,
Vladislav Delay,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Hashim,
Soft Cell,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Divine Comedy,
Faraquet,
Ludus,
Jandek,
UT,
Tommy Roe,
The Gladiators,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Henry Cow,
Boredoms,
EPMD,
The Count Five,
Camouflage,
Echospace,
Japan,
Sonic Youth,
T. Rex,
The Angels of Light,
Rufus Thomas,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Icehouse,
Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu, Drive Like Jehu.
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.