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 Azerbaijan and from Sao Paulo.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Moody Blues to the punk 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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All Faust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Kinks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spandau Ballet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
Prince Buster,
Aloha Tigers,
Delon & Dalcan,
UT,
Jeff Lynne,
Easy Going,
Yellowson,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Gang of Four,
Grey Daturas,
Khruangbin,
The Invisible,
The Walker Brothers,
Sam Rivers,
ABBA,
Lucky Dragons,
Television,
La Düsseldorf,
Gong,
Intrusion,
MC5,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Mary Jane Girls,
Rufus Thomas,
Erykah Badu,
Wally Richardson,
Bootsy Collins,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Birthday Party,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
World's Most,
Jacques Brel,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Man Parrish,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kurtis Blow,
The Smiths,
48th St. Collective,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
New Order,
Babytalk,
Don Cherry,
Hoover,
Boredoms,
The Red Krayola,
Rekid,
Joyce Sims,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
The Detroit Cobras,
H. Thieme,
Jawbox,
Joy Division,
Nik Kershaw,
Juan Atkins,
Gil Scott Heron,
Visage,
Boz Scaggs,
Slick Rick,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Motorama,
B.T. Express,
Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn, Dawn Penn.
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.