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 Tuvalu and from Stockholm.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 clarinet 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 John Cale to the disco 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 48th St. Collective. All the underground hits.
All T.S.O.L. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rod Modell 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Easy Going record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stiv Bators,
New Order,
Kevin Saunderson,
the Swans,
Suicide,
The Kinks,
Yazoo,
The J.B.'s,
The Divine Comedy,
Todd Terry,
Black Moon,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Intrusion,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Metal Thangz,
Smog,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Blackbyrds,
Avey Tare,
F. McDonald,
Slick Rick,
The Doors,
Aural Exciters,
Boredoms,
Animal Collective,
Joe Finger,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Terry Callier,
Graham Central Station,
Ralphi Rosario,
Ituana,
Kenny Larkin,
The Angels of Light,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sun City Girls,
Mandrill,
The Detroit Cobras,
Godley & Creme,
Eric Dolphy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
L. Decosne,
Skarface,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
the Fania All-Stars,
Agitation Free,
OOIOO,
Ornette Coleman,
This Heat,
The Happenings,
Can,
Panda Bear,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Fortunes,
Matthew Bourne,
The Velvet Underground,
Surgeon,
Von Mondo,
Anakelly,
Minnie Riperton,
Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun, Con Funk Shun.
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.