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 Greece and from Columbus.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 mellotron 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 The Martian to the rock 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 Ash Ra Tempel. All the underground hits.
All Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Stooges,
Clear Light,
the Swans,
DNA,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Shoche,
The Alarm Clocks,
Gabor Szabo,
The Motions,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Hashim,
Barry Ungar,
Alton Ellis,
The Kinks,
K-Klass,
The Monochrome Set,
Dennis Brown,
Brothers Johnson,
Maurizio,
Chrome,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sällskapet,
The Blackbyrds,
The Velvet Underground,
The Moody Blues,
Pantytec,
Suicide,
Drive Like Jehu,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jacques Brel,
Roxette,
Lakeside,
Silicon Teens,
Idris Muhammad,
the Human League,
Dorothy Ashby,
Aaron Thompson,
the Slits,
Adolescents,
Slick Rick,
Aural Exciters,
The Walker Brothers,
Faust,
Bad Manners,
Rekid,
Pierre Henry,
Heaven 17,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gregory Isaacs,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gerry Rafferty,
Lee Hazlewood,
ABC,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Todd Terry,
Blake Baxter,
The Techniques,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.