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 Brazil and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Accra.
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 sitar 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 Faust to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Red Krayola record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Lucky Dragons,
Brand Nubian,
The Black Dice,
F. McDonald,
EPMD,
Leonard Cohen,
Dawn Penn,
Japan,
Mr. Review,
The Angels of Light,
H. Thieme,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Howard Jones,
Al Stewart,
Soft Cell,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
cv313,
Shuggie Otis,
Essential Logic,
Jawbox,
Mantronix,
John Cale,
Cybotron,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Roxette,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
the Bar-Kays,
Kool Moe Dee,
Qualms,
Boogie Down Productions,
Theoretical Girls,
Thee Headcoats,
The Gladiators,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Symarip,
Basic Channel,
Skarface,
Toni Rubio,
T.S.O.L.,
Second Layer,
The Golliwogs,
Underground Resistance,
Tomorrow,
Flamin' Groovies,
Arab on Radar,
Minutemen,
The Selecter,
Henry Cow,
Schoolly D,
The Gun Club,
Amon Düül II,
Sister Nancy,
Eddi Front,
Lightning Bolt,
Jeff Lynne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Make Up,
Tommy Roe,
Aloha Tigers,
Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers, Country Teasers.
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.