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 Uganda and from Jakarta.
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 1960 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and New York.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the güiro 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 Count Five to the rap 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 The Index. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aloha Tigers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Stooges record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
D'Angelo,
The Cure,
Harry Pussy,
Rakim,
Fela Kuti,
Underground Resistance,
Minny Pops,
James White and The Blacks,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Maurizio,
Cal Tjader,
Dave Gahan,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Anakelly,
Zapp,
Guru Guru,
The Star Department,
The Count Five,
Procol Harum,
Anthony Braxton,
Aloha Tigers,
Lightning Bolt,
Q and Not U,
Sandy B,
The Modern Lovers,
Easy Going,
Gregory Isaacs,
Arcadia,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sonic Youth,
Japan,
Loose Ends,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gang Gang Dance,
Tropical Tobacco,
Max Romeo,
Shuggie Otis,
Sarah Menescal,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Section 25,
the Swans,
Heaven 17,
B.T. Express,
The Stooges,
Jeff Mills,
Parry Music,
Audionom,
Buzzcocks,
The American Breed,
Dorothy Ashby,
Von Mondo,
Pole,
David McCallum,
Susan Cadogan,
Qualms,
Eve St. Jones,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Johnny Clarke,
Skaos,
T. Rex,
Liliput, Liliput, Liliput, Liliput.
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.