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 Tanzania and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 mellotron 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 Simply Red to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Minnie Riperton. All the underground hits.
All The Grass Roots tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oneida 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Divine Comedy,
Rites of Spring,
The Victims,
Neu!,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
OOIOO,
The Trojans,
The Beau Brummels,
The Fuzztones,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Scratch Acid,
Suburban Knight,
Cymande,
Delta 5,
Dorothy Ashby,
Audionom,
Tres Demented,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Five Americans,
The Monks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sam Rivers,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
the Association,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Arab on Radar,
Vladislav Delay,
Sandy B,
The Cure,
The Leaves,
The Toasters,
The Birthday Party,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Fire Engines,
Man Parrish,
Pantytec,
Can,
JFA,
Harmonia,
David Axelrod,
Skarface,
Lower 48,
Pere Ubu,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Mummies,
Nico,
James White and The Blacks,
The Doobie Brothers,
Camouflage,
Fatback Band,
Bootsy Collins,
The Moleskins,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Ohio Players,
The Last Poets,
Gang Green,
Flipper,
Dennis Brown,
Deadbeat,
Agitation Free,
Glenn Branca,
Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama, Pulsallama.
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.