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 Eritrea 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 1967 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Joy Division to the grime 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 Lou Reed & John Cale. All the underground hits.
All Magma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mary Jane Girls 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Moody Blues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Lou Reed,
Quadrant,
The Trojans,
Letta Mbulu,
kango's stein massive,
48th St. Collective,
The Electric Prunes,
Bobby Byrd,
CMW,
DJ Sneak,
Tubeway Army,
Scott Walker,
Fugazi,
Wally Richardson,
Yaz,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Gladiators,
Stetsasonic,
Swans,
The Fuzztones,
the Swans,
The Knickerbockers,
Freddie Wadling,
A Certain Ratio,
Skriet,
Rapeman,
Cecil Taylor,
Lindisfarne,
Symarip,
The Raincoats,
Tres Demented,
Jeff Lynne,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Rhythm & Sound,
These Immortal Souls,
Hot Snakes,
Man Parrish,
Gang Starr,
Black Sheep,
New York Dolls,
Leonard Cohen,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Minnie Riperton,
U.S. Maple,
T. Rex,
Outsiders,
Kayak,
The Motions,
Pharoah Sanders,
Gastr Del Sol,
Smog,
Cybotron,
Livin' Joy,
Suicide,
Boz Scaggs,
T.S.O.L.,
Sugar Minott,
Lungfish,
Saccharine Trust,
Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans, Angry Samoans.
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.