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 Afghanistan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tokyo 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the oboe 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 Angry Samoans to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mission of Burma. All the underground hits.
All Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alice Coltrane record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Agent Orange,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Freddie Wadling,
Depeche Mode,
Eurythmics,
Morten Harket,
Fugazi,
Sarah Menescal,
Harry Pussy,
The Vogues,
Trumans Water,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fluxion,
Max Romeo,
The Angels of Light,
Bootsy Collins,
Fear,
MDC,
Eric Copeland,
Q65,
Bluetip,
The Saints,
Barry Ungar,
Tubeway Army,
Electric Light Orchestra,
DJ Sneak,
Audionom,
The Sonics,
Chrome,
Pere Ubu,
The Toasters,
Joy Division,
Peter and Kerry,
Throbbing Gristle,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Moody Blues,
Darondo,
Robert Görl,
Wally Richardson,
the Human League,
The Tremeloes,
Barrington Levy,
Mad Mike,
Excepter,
Supertramp,
Agitation Free,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Fire Engines,
Jeff Lynne,
The American Breed,
The Fuzztones,
The Invisible,
The Standells,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Nik Kershaw,
Pole,
Mo-Dettes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Alarm Clocks,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.