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 Solomon Islands 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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Manchester.
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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Public Image Ltd. to the jazz 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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Archie Shepp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Con Funk Shun record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Thee Headcoats,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Kas Product,
Icehouse,
Sight & Sound,
The Cowsills,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rekid,
The Offenders,
Saccharine Trust,
Lakeside,
Scrapy,
Minutemen,
Adolescents,
Con Funk Shun,
The Music Machine,
Swell Maps,
The Young Rascals,
Liliput,
Lee Hazlewood,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Doors,
Chrome,
Accadde A,
Can,
The Grass Roots,
Youth Brigade,
Yellowson,
K-Klass,
X-Ray Spex,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Barry Ungar,
Wally Richardson,
Aloha Tigers,
The Knickerbockers,
CMW,
Sex Pistols,
Aural Exciters,
Camouflage,
Visage,
Man Parrish,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gang of Four,
JFA,
Oneida,
Andrew Hill,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
The Dead C,
Wolf Eyes,
Fugazi,
Lebanon Hanover,
Swans,
The Blues Magoos,
Jeff Lynne,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Donny Hathaway,
Motorama,
The Gladiators,
Scan 7,
James White and The Blacks,
ABBA, ABBA, ABBA, ABBA.
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.