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 Tanzania and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 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 John Holt to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Agent Orange 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Steve Hackett,
ABC,
Crash Course in Science,
Soft Machine,
June Days,
the Association,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Angry Samoans,
The Offenders,
Smog,
The Move,
Camberwell Now,
The Angels of Light,
Jacques Brel,
Lindisfarne,
Byron Stingily,
Yaz,
Curtis Mayfield,
Joyce Sims,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Young Rascals,
Joe Finger,
Grauzone,
Dawn Penn,
Aural Exciters,
New York Dolls,
Lou Reed,
Gastr Del Sol,
Banda Bassotti,
Graham Central Station,
Bauhaus,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sugar Minott,
Donald Byrd,
Jeff Lynne,
Swell Maps,
The Beau Brummels,
F. McDonald,
Lalo Schifrin,
Peter & Gordon,
Procol Harum,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Can,
Drive Like Jehu,
Johnny Clarke,
Mr. Review,
Arthur Verocai,
The Moody Blues,
Ohio Players,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jesper Dahlback,
Janne Schatter,
the Sonics,
Jerry's Kids,
Livin' Joy,
Andrew Hill,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
The Doors,
Public Image Ltd.,
Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee, Kool Moe Dee.
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.