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 Senegal and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 rhodes 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 Royal Family And The Poor to the electroclash 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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Royal Trux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Leaves record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Five Americans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Smog,
Slave,
H. Thieme,
Khruangbin,
Urselle,
John Coltrane,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sparks,
Aswad,
Yaz,
Quando Quango,
Kevin Saunderson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Names,
Stockholm Monsters,
Loose Ends,
Hoover,
Neu!,
The Invisible,
Aloha Tigers,
The Fugs,
The Grass Roots,
James White and The Blacks,
Flipper,
Public Enemy,
L. Decosne,
T.S.O.L.,
Erasure,
Connie Case,
Oblivians,
Sex Pistols,
Niagra,
Livin' Joy,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Gabor Szabo,
The Saints,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ohio Players,
The Kinks,
The Leaves,
Soulsonic Force,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Terrestrial Tones,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Matthew Bourne,
Rotary Connection,
Cymande,
Althea and Donna,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Skriet,
The Barracudas,
The Fortunes,
Cheater Slicks,
Theoretical Girls,
Chrome,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Roger Hodgson,
Gerry Rafferty,
Maleditus Sound,
Popol Vuh,
James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions, James Chance & The Contortions.
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.