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 Equatorial Guinea 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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 X-101 to the crunk 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 Cymande. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Jeff Lynne,
Stetsasonic,
These Immortal Souls,
Tears for Fears,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Alton Ellis,
Monolake,
T. Rex,
the Soft Cell,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Last Poets,
The Cramps,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Freddie Wadling,
Robert Wyatt,
Pagans,
Tom Boy,
Alice Coltrane,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Minutemen,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
One Last Wish,
John Cale,
Silicon Teens,
New Age Steppers,
Sonny Sharrock,
Thompson Twins,
Unrelated Segments,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
F. McDonald,
Symarip,
Joe Smooth,
Swell Maps,
Excepter,
Slave,
Porter Ricks,
World's Most,
DJ Sneak,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Evens,
June Days,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
the Normal,
Wally Richardson,
Harry Pussy,
Buzzcocks,
Arab on Radar,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Mo-Dettes,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
48th St. Collective,
Danielle Patucci,
Parry Music,
The Fugs,
Ossler,
Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler, Kerri Chandler.
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.