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 Guinea and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet 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 Oppenheimer Analysis to the disco 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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Skriet tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nirvana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Altered Images,
Crooked Eye,
Porter Ricks,
Gichy Dan,
Suburban Knight,
Essential Logic,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Siglo XX,
Dead Boys,
Marine Girls,
Stiv Bators,
The Dirtbombs,
The Offenders,
The Cramps,
Deepchord,
Lucky Dragons,
Scrapy,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Drexciya,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Nas,
Mr. Review,
Boredoms,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Marmalade,
The Detroit Cobras,
Blancmange,
Procol Harum,
the Human League,
Eric Copeland,
Throbbing Gristle,
Lalo Schifrin,
H. Thieme,
The Young Rascals,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Leaves,
Swell Maps,
Black Sheep,
Barbara Tucker,
Cameo,
The Moleskins,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Aural Exciters,
Radiohead,
Youth Brigade,
Susan Cadogan,
Public Image Ltd.,
Crime,
Hasil Adkins,
Bill Near,
Erasure,
Yellowson,
Freddie Wadling,
UT,
Ludus,
Minutemen,
Infiniti,
Bobby Byrd,
Rotary Connection,
The Fuzztones,
MC5, MC5, MC5, MC5.
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.