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 Ecuador and from Edmonton.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Mary Jane Girls 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 Sixth Finger. All the underground hits.
All Make Up tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 linndrum and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nation of Ulysses,
Harry Pussy,
June of 44,
One Last Wish,
Von Mondo,
The Star Department,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Mr. Review,
The Flesh Eaters,
Mars,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Sun City Girls,
Inner City,
the Association,
The Saints,
Graham Central Station,
R.M.O.,
Rotary Connection,
Pharoah Sanders,
Tim Buckley,
Flash Fearless,
Lee Hazlewood,
Malaria!,
Mad Mike,
World's Most,
Ice-T,
Cybotron,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Fugazi,
Interpol,
Drexciya,
Charles Mingus,
Patti Smith,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Accadde A,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Roy Ayers,
Pagans,
The Birthday Party,
The Index,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sandy B,
Ultimate Spinach,
David Bowie,
Grauzone,
Bill Wells,
Whodini,
Stiv Bators,
Scan 7,
Tears for Fears,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Human League,
Sexual Harrassment,
the Normal,
Sugar Minott,
Symarip,
MDC,
The Shadows of Knight,
Vainqueur,
The Victims,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.