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 Kyrgyzstan and from Accra.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Marvin Gaye to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Velvet Underground. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funky Four + One record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Liaisons Dangereuses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
Eddi Front,
Lower 48,
Dark Day,
Chris Corsano,
Letta Mbulu,
Hasil Adkins,
Los Fastidios,
Crispy Ambulance,
Boredoms,
Subhumans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Durutti Column,
Cymande,
The Modern Lovers,
Kerrie Biddell,
Amazonics,
Roxette,
Lakeside,
Pole,
New Order,
MDC,
Cybotron,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Move,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Cheater Slicks,
The Dave Clark Five,
Masters at Work,
Dawn Penn,
In Retrospect,
Television,
Godley & Creme,
Mad Mike,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Nick Fraelich,
Can,
Blancmange,
Crispian St. Peters,
Hoover,
Juan Atkins,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Infiniti,
Lou Reed,
Davy DMX,
Babytalk,
Dead Boys,
Delta 5,
Faust,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Young Rascals,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Radiopuhelimet,
Moss Icon,
Yusef Lateef,
Maleditus Sound,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott Heron,
June Days,
Dorothy Ashby,
Slick Rick,
Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins, Thompson Twins.
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.