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 Pakistan and from Toronto.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Saints to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Index. All the underground hits.
All Guru Guru tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sexual Harrassment record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker,
Bobby Sherman,
Max Romeo,
Sam Rivers,
A Certain Ratio,
LL Cool J,
Donny Hathaway,
Organ,
Lightning Bolt,
Franke,
Alice Coltrane,
Blake Baxter,
Bronski Beat,
The Young Rascals,
Johnny Clarke,
Roxette,
The Saints,
Animal Collective,
The Star Department,
Erykah Badu,
Sonic Youth,
B.T. Express,
Wally Richardson,
John Lydon,
Can,
the Human League,
Cybotron,
OOIOO,
Laurel Aitken,
The Move,
The Seeds,
Boogie Down Productions,
Sonny Sharrock,
Chris Corsano,
Alphaville,
The Knickerbockers,
Skarface,
Audionom,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Tropical Tobacco,
Essential Logic,
The Tremeloes,
Dark Day,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cymande,
The Trojans,
Piero Umiliani,
Flash Fearless,
Sixth Finger,
Dave Gahan,
Byron Stingily,
Index,
Cameo,
Minnie Riperton,
Eden Ahbez,
Inner City,
Archie Shepp,
Severed Heads,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C, The Dead C.
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.