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 Costa Rica and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Roger Hodgson to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 One Last Wish. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funky Four + One 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?
Funkadelic,
Quantec,
The Wake,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Graham Central Station,
Delon & Dalcan,
Joensuu 1685,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Neil Young,
The Misunderstood,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bobby Womack,
Albert Ayler,
Girls At Our Best!,
Marc Almond,
John Cale,
Intrusion,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Grey Daturas,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sam Rivers,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
the Association,
Nick Fraelich,
Ornette Coleman,
Todd Rundgren,
Electric Prunes,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Music Machine,
The Human League,
Slick Rick,
Boogie Down Productions,
Josef K,
Second Layer,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Nik Kershaw,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Neu!,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Gun Club,
Loose Ends,
Bluetip,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lindisfarne,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Doobie Brothers,
Porter Ricks,
DJ Sneak,
The Cowsills,
Stereo Dub,
Nico,
Connie Case,
Robert Hood,
The Standells,
D'Angelo,
Sun Ra,
John Holt, John Holt, John Holt, John Holt.
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.