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 Seychelles and from Accra.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 1968 at the first Can practice in a loft in Cologne.
I was working on the organ 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 Tears for Fears 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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Talk Talk,
Buzzcocks,
Al Stewart,
Monks,
Dave Gahan,
Index,
Gang Green,
Oblivians,
Trumans Water,
T. Rex,
Cluster,
Archie Shepp,
Ronnie Foster,
Wings,
The Kinks,
Jeff Lynne,
Quando Quango,
Faraquet,
Brick,
Sister Nancy,
Wolf Eyes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lebanon Hanover,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bauhaus,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Joyce Sims,
The Velvet Underground,
Little Man,
Barbara Tucker,
Marvin Gaye,
Pagans,
The Red Krayola,
Blake Baxter,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Durutti Column,
Anakelly,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Tubeway Army,
Sonic Youth,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sixth Finger,
June Days,
Kayak,
Rites of Spring,
Bill Near,
Youth Brigade,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Michelle Simonal,
Stiv Bators,
Clear Light,
48th St. Collective,
The Slits,
Sunsets and Hearts,
DJ Sneak,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Fall,
The Evens,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Amazonics,
Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going, Easy Going.
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.