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 Mozambique and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1962 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 guitar 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 Boz Scaggs to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Electric Prunes. All the underground hits.
All Flash Fearless tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Deadbeat record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blossom Toes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Sneak,
The Doors,
Bob Dylan,
The Offenders,
Brand Nubian,
L. Decosne,
H. Thieme,
Wire,
Audionom,
Y Pants,
Todd Rundgren,
Harry Pussy,
Mr. Review,
The Human League,
F. McDonald,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Model 500,
Young Marble Giants,
The Saints,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Spoonie Gee,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Jeru the Damaja,
Sixth Finger,
Thee Headcoats,
A Certain Ratio,
The Five Americans,
Masters at Work,
Lyres,
Minnie Riperton,
Kurtis Blow,
Rapeman,
The Angels of Light,
Smog,
Quadrant,
Eve St. Jones,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Rhythm & Sound,
Lalann,
Bauhaus,
Janne Schatter,
Cymande,
Moby Grape,
Japan,
Television Personalities,
Tears for Fears,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Toni Rubio,
Spandau Ballet,
Mad Mike,
CMW,
Judy Mowatt,
Dave Gahan,
Intrusion,
Lindisfarne,
Los Fastidios,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Vogues,
Tommy Roe,
The Slits,
The Fugs,
Erasure, Erasure, Erasure, Erasure.
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.