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 Pakistan and from Tokyo.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Yellowson to the rock kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sly & The Family Stone 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Black Dice,
Joy Division,
Terry Callier,
Al Stewart,
Lyres,
Groovy Waters,
Connie Case,
EPMD,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Neon Judgement,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pulsallama,
Infiniti,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Count Five,
Ituana,
Man Parrish,
The Knickerbockers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Terrestrial Tones,
Boredoms,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Gang Starr,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Magazine,
Todd Rundgren,
New Order,
Crash Course in Science,
Marvin Gaye,
Mad Mike,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scratch Acid,
Flipper,
OOIOO,
Visage,
Avey Tare,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Con Funk Shun,
DJ Style,
Technova,
Pylon,
48th St. Collective,
Soul Sonic Force,
Moss Icon,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Susan Cadogan,
MC5,
Organ,
Sixth Finger,
Symarip,
AZ,
Black Flag,
Shoche,
Crispian St. Peters,
Henry Cow,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Victims,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Robert Görl,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.