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 Italy and from Beijing.
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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Blancmange to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Guru Guru. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Harry Pussy,
Theoretical Girls,
Wally Richardson,
Roy Ayers,
The Monks,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Sandy B,
The Cure,
Whodini,
Skaos,
The Dirtbombs,
John Holt,
Yellowson,
Negative Approach,
Ultimate Spinach,
Ken Boothe,
Popol Vuh,
Howard Jones,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Moby Grape,
David Axelrod,
Brass Construction,
Tom Boy,
David McCallum,
Sixth Finger,
8 Eyed Spy,
The J.B.'s,
The Angels of Light,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
ABBA,
Vainqueur,
Peter and Kerry,
Reagan Youth,
Franke,
John Cale,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Velvet Underground,
Sonny Sharrock,
Nils Olav,
Angry Samoans,
Joensuu 1685,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eli Mardock,
Kayak,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Trojans,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Make Up,
Infiniti,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Swell Maps,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Eric Dolphy,
Kerrie Biddell,
Harmonia,
Jacob Miller,
Crash Course in Science,
Junior Murvin,
New York Dolls,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch, Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch.
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.