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 Switzerland and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Sao Paulo.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Roger Hodgson 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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cowsills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Smoke,
R.M.O.,
Surgeon,
Connie Case,
Jesper Dahlback,
Accadde A,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Index,
Mandrill,
Bad Manners,
Judy Mowatt,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Bill Wells,
Wings,
Jerry's Kids,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Lindisfarne,
Zapp,
Sun Ra,
Gang of Four,
The Alarm Clocks,
Barclay James Harvest,
Masters at Work,
Supertramp,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Warsaw,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Magma,
A Certain Ratio,
Amon Düül II,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Colin Newman,
The Gories,
Mo-Dettes,
Niagra,
The Kinks,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Young Rascals,
Terrestrial Tones,
Faraquet,
This Heat,
Slick Rick,
Gregory Isaacs,
Brand Nubian,
The Barracudas,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Mummies,
Donny Hathaway,
Radiohead,
The Gladiators,
The J.B.'s,
Radiopuhelimet,
Oneida,
Carl Craig,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Leaves,
New Order,
Rites of Spring,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.