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 Zimbabwe and from Mumbai.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All Zero Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roxy Music record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ornette Coleman,
New Age Steppers,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Khruangbin,
Freddie Wadling,
The Monochrome Set,
June of 44,
Youth Brigade,
Gang Starr,
Sexual Harrassment,
Stockholm Monsters,
Franke,
Ken Boothe,
Kurtis Blow,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Star Department,
Dead Boys,
Terrestrial Tones,
Spandau Ballet,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Gabor Szabo,
Masters at Work,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Maurizio,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Lebanon Hanover,
Oneida,
Interpol,
Eurythmics,
Wasted Youth,
Lee Hazlewood,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Althea and Donna,
Motorama,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Boredoms,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Soul II Soul,
Lalo Schifrin,
Lungfish,
Chris & Cosey,
The Evens,
The Music Machine,
Roxette,
Ohio Players,
Thompson Twins,
Rod Modell,
Ronnie Foster,
Jesper Dahlback,
The J.B.'s,
Smog,
Lindisfarne,
Albert Ayler,
B.T. Express,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu, Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu.
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.