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 Taiwan and from Columbus.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Michelle Simonal to the grime 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Evens record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Star Department,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Joey Negro,
The Human League,
Bobby Womack,
Piero Umiliani,
The Trojans,
Graham Central Station,
Masters at Work,
Rhythm & Sound,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Audionom,
The Dirtbombs,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Gichy Dan,
The Vogues,
Terry Callier,
Lightning Bolt,
Juan Atkins,
The New Christs,
MC5,
E-Dancer,
Jandek,
Niagra,
Schoolly D,
Bush Tetras,
the Slits,
Scientists,
Tommy Roe,
Animal Collective,
Scan 7,
Rosa Yemen,
Fad Gadget,
Lindisfarne,
Quando Quango,
Fat Boys,
Country Teasers,
The American Breed,
B.T. Express,
Infiniti,
Groovy Waters,
FM Einheit,
Simply Red,
Joyce Sims,
The Martian,
Cal Tjader,
R.M.O.,
Icehouse,
Ossler,
Mars,
Godley & Creme,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Camberwell Now,
Das Ding,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Cymande,
The Beau Brummels,
Marvin Gaye,
Hardrive,
Gabor Szabo,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
David Bowie,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.