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 Bhutan and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 guitar 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 Nico to the rock 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 Major Organ And The Adding Machine. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Count Five record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T. Rex,
Masters at Work,
Altered Images,
The Selecter,
New Age Steppers,
Soft Cell,
Mission of Burma,
Kas Product,
Ituana,
Tubeway Army,
Mars,
Piero Umiliani,
New York Dolls,
Crooked Eye,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Josef K,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Television,
Crime,
Wings,
Goldenarms,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Can,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Aural Exciters,
Deakin,
The Busters,
One Last Wish,
Alice Coltrane,
DJ Sneak,
Franke,
Subhumans,
Nation of Ulysses,
Duran Duran,
Shuggie Otis,
Zero Boys,
48th St. Collective,
Jeru the Damaja,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Dirtbombs,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Fall,
Motorama,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Bob Dylan,
Scientists,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Black Moon,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Brand Nubian,
Morten Harket,
Matthew Halsall,
Black Pus,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Anthony Braxton,
Archie Shepp,
Eric Copeland,
Porter Ricks,
The Fire Engines,
The Slackers,
Jacques Brel,
Pet Shop Boys,
Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review, Mr. Review.
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.