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 Gambia and from Stockholm.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 De La Soul & Jungle Brothers to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Donald Byrd. All the underground hits.
All Byron Stingily tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Parry Music,
Zapp,
Scrapy,
T. Rex,
Desert Stars,
Shuggie Otis,
L. Decosne,
Rekid,
Minnie Riperton,
Toni Rubio,
La Düsseldorf,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Kenny Larkin,
Whodini,
Jesper Dahlback,
Franke,
Eric Copeland,
Make Up,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Boredoms,
Eddi Front,
X-101,
Henry Cow,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Mark Hollis,
Barbara Tucker,
Rakim,
These Immortal Souls,
D'Angelo,
Darondo,
Bobby Womack,
Schoolly D,
Amon Düül II,
The Human League,
Drive Like Jehu,
Skriet,
Rotary Connection,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Girls At Our Best!,
Sandy B,
Dead Boys,
Masters at Work,
Black Bananas,
Soul II Soul,
The Golliwogs,
Lou Reed,
Alphaville,
The Smiths,
Harry Pussy,
Hashim,
Ultra Naté,
Black Pus,
The Moody Blues,
Absolute Body Control,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Royal Trux,
The Gladiators,
Television,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
The Monks,
Soft Machine,
Delta 5,
Bang On A Can,
ABC, ABC, ABC, ABC.
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.