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 Philippines and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1966 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 rhodes 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 Alison Limerick to the rap 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Jerry Gold Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Angels of Light,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
June of 44,
Loose Ends,
Hashim,
The Standells,
The Real Kids,
the Soft Cell,
Wasted Youth,
U.S. Maple,
the Sonics,
Roy Ayers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Silicon Teens,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Pantaleimon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Derrick Morgan,
Gastr Del Sol,
Cecil Taylor,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pylon,
Susan Cadogan,
Skriet,
8 Eyed Spy,
Von Mondo,
Bauhaus,
Wire,
Rites of Spring,
Brand Nubian,
Barry Ungar,
Hoover,
Brothers Johnson,
The Buckinghams,
Grandmaster Flash,
Monks,
X-101,
Sound Behaviour,
The Slackers,
The Tremeloes,
Flipper,
Graham Central Station,
The Electric Prunes,
Jerry's Kids,
The Pretty Things,
OOIOO,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Jimmy McGriff,
Deepchord,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Monochrome Set,
The Offenders,
Saccharine Trust,
Nik Kershaw,
Sister Nancy,
a-ha,
Magma,
Japan,
Bobby Womack,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band, Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band.
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.