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 Japan and from Columbus.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 mellotron 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 Sad Lovers and Giants to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Swans. All the underground hits.
All Archie Shepp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The American Breed 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Make Up record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharoah Sanders,
Wasted Youth,
Angry Samoans,
JFA,
Delon & Dalcan,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Todd Terry,
The Black Dice,
the Bar-Kays,
In Retrospect,
Mo-Dettes,
Connie Case,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Aural Exciters,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Aloha Tigers,
Swell Maps,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Dirtbombs,
Joe Finger,
Groovy Waters,
Lindisfarne,
The Knickerbockers,
Monks,
Nirvana,
L. Decosne,
Harry Pussy,
Marshall Jefferson,
Todd Rundgren,
Depeche Mode,
The Fugs,
Terry Callier,
Derrick May,
Soul II Soul,
Animal Collective,
The Seeds,
Minny Pops,
Scott Walker,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
David McCallum,
Ornette Coleman,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Zeros,
Organ,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
DJ Sneak,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Simply Red,
Dave Gahan,
The Doors,
Ronan,
Index,
Moebius,
the Fania All-Stars,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Eric Copeland,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Intrusion,
Roxette,
The Red Krayola,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.