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 Bahamas and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 Woodstock and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Theoretical Girls to the electroclash 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 Andrew Hill. All the underground hits.
All 48th St. Collective tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sad Lovers and Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 clarinet and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minnie Riperton,
Ultravox,
Harmonia,
Junior Murvin,
The Real Kids,
Goldenarms,
Warren Ellis,
Kurtis Blow,
Bobby Byrd,
Suburban Knight,
Slick Rick,
Brick,
Sun Ra,
Eddi Front,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Pussy Galore,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Names,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Khruangbin,
Agent Orange,
Eric Dolphy,
Roger Hodgson,
Angry Samoans,
Gerry Rafferty,
New York Dolls,
Ludus,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Buckinghams,
Grey Daturas,
The Knickerbockers,
cv313,
Peter and Kerry,
These Immortal Souls,
Rhythm & Sound,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Second Layer,
Livin' Joy,
Flipper,
Siglo XX,
Gang of Four,
Lalann,
The United States of America,
Procol Harum,
the Fania All-Stars,
Cheater Slicks,
Michelle Simonal,
Au Pairs,
U.S. Maple,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Trojans,
Idris Muhammad,
Delta 5,
Magma,
Neu!,
The Monochrome Set,
Sight & Sound,
Marvin Gaye,
Black Moon,
Gong, Gong, Gong, Gong.
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.