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 Cameroon and from Paris.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 spring reverb 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 Quantec to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ponytail. All the underground hits.
All Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suicide,
The Blues Magoos,
The Angels of Light,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Cure,
Don Cherry,
Roxette,
Tropical Tobacco,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
John Cale,
Wasted Youth,
Eli Mardock,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lindisfarne,
Moebius,
Camouflage,
Soft Cell,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Drexciya,
Lightning Bolt,
The Monochrome Set,
Harmonia,
Glenn Branca,
Jeff Mills,
Barry Ungar,
Soulsonic Force,
Nils Olav,
The Star Department,
Boredoms,
Joyce Sims,
Todd Rundgren,
Kenny Larkin,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Bizarre Inc.,
Fluxion,
Roxy Music,
Vladislav Delay,
R.M.O.,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Pole,
Blossom Toes,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
One Last Wish,
The Gories,
Brand Nubian,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
the Bar-Kays,
Chrome,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Gap Band,
Angry Samoans,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Crime,
Joey Negro,
Jeru the Damaja,
Accadde A,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bill Wells,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Max Romeo,
Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett, Steve Hackett.
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.