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 Congo and from Lille.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Skarface to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks. All the underground hits.
All the Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Al Stewart 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Bauhaus,
Theoretical Girls,
Amon Düül,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pharoah Sanders,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Public Enemy,
Bizarre Inc.,
Index,
Lightning Bolt,
DNA,
Siglo XX,
Whodini,
The Selecter,
Blancmange,
LL Cool J,
Mission of Burma,
Minny Pops,
These Immortal Souls,
The Mojo Men,
Buzzcocks,
Lakeside,
Jeff Mills,
New Order,
Fela Kuti,
Rakim,
Dark Day,
Rites of Spring,
Ultra Naté,
Quando Quango,
Bobby Sherman,
Maurizio,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Saccharine Trust,
Joensuu 1685,
a-ha,
Fear,
Nas,
Man Parrish,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Motions,
Kenny Larkin,
Rufus Thomas,
Gastr Del Sol,
Erykah Badu,
Inner City,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Connie Case,
Al Stewart,
Lower 48,
Khruangbin,
Subhumans,
Anthony Braxton,
Harry Pussy,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Metal Thangz,
Steve Hackett,
Supertramp,
Blake Baxter,
Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners, Bad Manners.
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.