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 Mauritania and from Accra.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Funky Four + One to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 DeepChord presents Echospace. All the underground hits.
All Popol Vuh tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Red Krayola 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 '50s 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 D'Angelo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Barry Ungar,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Residents,
Masters at Work,
The Angels of Light,
Eric Copeland,
Mary Jane Girls,
Electric Prunes,
Shoche,
L. Decosne,
OOIOO,
Easy Going,
Guru Guru,
Technova,
Donald Byrd,
Desert Stars,
The Shadows of Knight,
Tropical Tobacco,
Minnie Riperton,
Zero Boys,
Fluxion,
Andrew Hill,
The Moleskins,
The Searchers,
Ornette Coleman,
FM Einheit,
Davy DMX,
MC5,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Cecil Taylor,
New Age Steppers,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Skatalites,
The Sonics,
John Coltrane,
E-Dancer,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bizarre Inc.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Talk Talk,
The J.B.'s,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
D'Angelo,
Half Japanese,
The Techniques,
Rakim,
The Last Poets,
Qualms,
ABBA,
Peter & Gordon,
Traffic Nightmare,
MDC,
The Young Rascals,
Lou Reed,
Black Moon,
Fatback Band,
Severed Heads,
Bill Near,
Blancmange,
The Fugs,
Faust, Faust, Faust, Faust.
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.