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 Venezuela 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 1961 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 Robert Palmer 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 Infiniti to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Barclay James Harvest. All the underground hits.
All Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oblivians 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dirtbombs record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Soulsonic Force,
John Lydon,
Quadrant,
Marvin Gaye,
Black Bananas,
Unwound,
Mr. Review,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rites of Spring,
Marine Girls,
Morten Harket,
Bobby Sherman,
Arthur Verocai,
Little Man,
Bobby Womack,
Glenn Branca,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Roxy Music,
Interpol,
Goldenarms,
A Certain Ratio,
The Knickerbockers,
Monks,
Eurythmics,
Gang Green,
Schoolly D,
Gerry Rafferty,
Rosa Yemen,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Godley & Creme,
The Evens,
Fugazi,
The Saints,
Bobby Byrd,
Howard Jones,
Robert Hood,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Ohio Players,
Peter & Gordon,
The Gories,
Brothers Johnson,
Urselle,
Hashim,
Mantronix,
DJ Sneak,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
the Germs,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Fortunes,
Yusef Lateef,
Electric Prunes,
Lungfish,
These Immortal Souls,
Silicon Teens,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Beau Brummels,
Boredoms,
The Dead C,
Magma,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.