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 Sudan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Edmonton.
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 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 Joyce Sims to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Livin' Joy 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Art Ensemble Of Chicago record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-102,
Arthur Verocai,
Tropical Tobacco,
Lou Christie,
DJ Style,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Black Dice,
Royal Trux,
Erasure,
Vainqueur,
Black Pus,
Sonny Sharrock,
Agent Orange,
Agitation Free,
Hashim,
Suicide,
New Order,
The Victims,
Flipper,
Nirvana,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Buzzcocks,
Infiniti,
Peter and Kerry,
Johnny Clarke,
Sarah Menescal,
Whodini,
Groovy Waters,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
LL Cool J,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Flamin' Groovies,
Funkadelic,
Steve Hackett,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Slackers,
D'Angelo,
DNA,
The Music Machine,
Basic Channel,
The New Christs,
The Monks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Outsiders,
The Martian,
The Cramps,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Metal Thangz,
Robert Görl,
Big Daddy Kane,
Warren Ellis,
Crispy Ambulance,
Qualms,
Oneida,
Crispian St. Peters,
Colin Newman,
Ice-T,
Amon Düül II,
Godley & Creme,
The Divine Comedy,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.