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 Maldives and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 spring reverb 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 Alison Limerick to the crunk 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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Public Image Ltd. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every kango's stein massive 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Can record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Eric Copeland,
The Seeds,
The Toasters,
Lungfish,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Negative Approach,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
EPMD,
Los Fastidios,
Ultravox,
Howard Jones,
In Retrospect,
The Knickerbockers,
The Barracudas,
Interpol,
Babytalk,
The Beau Brummels,
The Buckinghams,
Graham Central Station,
Wolf Eyes,
Scan 7,
Sixth Finger,
Dave Gahan,
Sonic Youth,
The Black Dice,
June of 44,
Bronski Beat,
Roxette,
a-ha,
The Dave Clark Five,
Gabor Szabo,
Scott Walker,
Clear Light,
Symarip,
Deakin,
Skarface,
Gichy Dan,
Soft Machine,
Johnny Clarke,
Sex Pistols,
Kas Product,
Frankie Knuckles,
Blancmange,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Blues Magoos,
Banda Bassotti,
Rod Modell,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Todd Rundgren,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jacob Miller,
Gerry Rafferty,
T.S.O.L.,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Franke,
Procol Harum,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Glenn Branca,
Stiv Bators,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.