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 Uzbekistan and from Houston.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 oboe 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the rock kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 The Skatalites. All the underground hits.
All The Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boz Scaggs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ 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?
The Young Rascals,
Andrew Hill,
Youth Brigade,
Boz Scaggs,
Cheater Slicks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Traffic Nightmare,
Rakim,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Suburban Knight,
Faust,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Desert Stars,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Parry Music,
Skaos,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Mo-Dettes,
Warsaw,
The Golliwogs,
Unrelated Segments,
The Sound,
Black Moon,
U.S. Maple,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Avey Tare,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Black Pus,
Agent Orange,
Frankie Knuckles,
Index,
Smog,
Siglo XX,
The Blackbyrds,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Sex Pistols,
Soulsonic Force,
Zero Boys,
Anakelly,
Marcia Griffiths,
Nico,
Franke,
Flipper,
Nirvana,
The Last Poets,
The Dirtbombs,
The Kinks,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Subhumans,
Mission of Burma,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Amazonics,
John Foxx,
The Fugs,
Aural Exciters,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Searchers,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
AZ,
Ludus,
Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd, Donald Byrd.
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.