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 Liberia and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Trumans Water to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Hasil Adkins. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Stooges record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Selecter,
Yellowson,
Porter Ricks,
Con Funk Shun,
Ronnie Foster,
Cameo,
Intrusion,
Kerri Chandler,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
L. Decosne,
Groovy Waters,
Monolake,
Tubeway Army,
Niagra,
Wally Richardson,
The Electric Prunes,
Gerry Rafferty,
Circle Jerks,
John Lydon,
Underground Resistance,
Banda Bassotti,
MC5,
James White and The Blacks,
Q and Not U,
Big Daddy Kane,
Hardrive,
Jawbox,
Procol Harum,
Connie Case,
Aaron Thompson,
DJ Style,
Toni Rubio,
Lucky Dragons,
Heaven 17,
EPMD,
The Wake,
Todd Terry,
Masters at Work,
Minnie Riperton,
Kaleidoscope,
Sällskapet,
Eric Copeland,
Fluxion,
The Dead C,
Bobby Sherman,
Letta Mbulu,
The Blues Magoos,
Peter & Gordon,
The Moleskins,
10cc,
UT,
Accadde A,
Fatback Band,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sparks,
Outsiders,
Amon Düül II,
Boogie Down Productions,
Gang Gang Dance,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Oneida,
Little Man,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.