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 Singapore and from New York.
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 Woodstock and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
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 John Coltrane to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Lebanon Hanover. All the underground hits.
All Duran Duran tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every K-Klass 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Jacob Miller,
Ultra Naté,
R.M.O.,
The Busters,
Fugazi,
Big Daddy Kane,
Eric Dolphy,
Stetsasonic,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fat Boys,
Chris Corsano,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
James White and The Blacks,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Last Poets,
Pere Ubu,
Lyres,
Qualms,
Average White Band,
Television Personalities,
One Last Wish,
Alison Limerick,
Brass Construction,
The Alarm Clocks,
Japan,
Zapp,
Rakim,
the Slits,
Fatback Band,
The Walker Brothers,
Rekid,
Boredoms,
Radio Birdman,
Howard Jones,
Soft Machine,
L. Decosne,
Robert Wyatt,
Max Romeo,
Pylon,
The Pop Group,
Althea and Donna,
Hasil Adkins,
The Cowsills,
China Crisis,
Shoche,
Jawbox,
Terry Callier,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Sparks,
Marine Girls,
Schoolly D,
The Vogues,
The Electric Prunes,
The Fuzztones,
Quando Quango,
Theoretical Girls,
Sister Nancy,
Roy Ayers,
Lungfish,
Public Enemy,
Liliput,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.