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 Finland and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 rhodes 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 The Mojo Men to the crunk 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 The Associates. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swans,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Bobby Sherman,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Gabor Szabo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Ultra Naté,
Bill Wells,
Kenny Larkin,
Das Ding,
Aswad,
Duran Duran,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Buckinghams,
EPMD,
Dead Boys,
The Golliwogs,
The Raincoats,
Ultravox,
The Associates,
AZ,
Black Moon,
The Fall,
ABBA,
Dual Sessions,
Marshall Jefferson,
Chrome,
Pussy Galore,
Lalann,
Flipper,
The Gap Band,
Roy Ayers,
UT,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Agitation Free,
Buzzcocks,
It's A Beautiful Day,
R.M.O.,
Monolake,
Barrington Levy,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Q and Not U,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sixth Finger,
Maurizio,
Darondo,
Yusef Lateef,
The Mummies,
Outsiders,
The Young Rascals,
Lee Hazlewood,
Skarface,
Bauhaus,
Derrick Morgan,
Minny Pops,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Trojans,
Eyeless In Gaza,
cv313,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.