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 Paraguay and from New York.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
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 Gerry Rafferty to the punk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Bar-Kays. All the underground hits.
All Quando Quango tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Black Dice,
Ice-T,
Thompson Twins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Organ,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Swans,
Lakeside,
Livin' Joy,
Scrapy,
Archie Shepp,
Con Funk Shun,
Deepchord,
Faraquet,
Television Personalities,
R.M.O.,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Fire Engines,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Doobie Brothers,
Tears for Fears,
The Mojo Men,
Spoonie Gee,
Half Japanese,
The Invisible,
Andrew Hill,
Shuggie Otis,
Ultra Naté,
Scratch Acid,
This Heat,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Man Parrish,
The Detroit Cobras,
Curtis Mayfield,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Joey Negro,
The Angels of Light,
The Skatalites,
Amon Düül II,
Easy Going,
8 Eyed Spy,
Minny Pops,
Boz Scaggs,
Nation of Ulysses,
Popol Vuh,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Rites of Spring,
Marc Almond,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Stooges,
Interpol,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Groovy Waters,
The Selecter,
Eli Mardock,
Ken Boothe,
The Neon Judgement,
Sonic Youth,
Agitation Free,
Aaron Thompson,
DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak, DJ Sneak.
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.