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 Tanzania and from Mexico City.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 clarinet 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 The Searchers to the techno kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 David Bowie. All the underground hits.
All Massinfluence tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kevin Saunderson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Ronan,
Duran Duran,
ABC,
Rekid,
One Last Wish,
Barbara Tucker,
Intrusion,
Pantaleimon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Aaron Thompson,
L. Decosne,
Patti Smith,
KRS-One,
Tropical Tobacco,
Don Cherry,
The Grass Roots,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Fugs,
Hot Snakes,
Mandrill,
the Soft Cell,
Albert Ayler,
Index,
The Detroit Cobras,
Glenn Branca,
Pulsallama,
LL Cool J,
Bad Manners,
The Motions,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
DJ Sneak,
Joyce Sims,
Average White Band,
Swell Maps,
The Pretty Things,
Flipper,
Lindisfarne,
Marvin Gaye,
Agitation Free,
Fluxion,
Susan Cadogan,
Terry Callier,
The Toasters,
Todd Rundgren,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Pierre Henry,
Derrick May,
FM Einheit,
Robert Hood,
Bush Tetras,
Silicon Teens,
Jacques Brel,
DJ Style,
Frankie Knuckles,
DNA,
Shuggie Otis,
The Red Krayola,
Fat Boys,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.