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 Comoros and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron 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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Edmonton.
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 oboe 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 The Velvet Underground to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Blues Magoos. All the underground hits.
All Jerry's Kids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Christie record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Steve Hackett record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Trojans,
Erasure,
Kerri Chandler,
Reuben Wilson,
Clear Light,
Symarip,
Crispy Ambulance,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Chris & Cosey,
Bootsy Collins,
Agent Orange,
Half Japanese,
KRS-One,
Sandy B,
Tim Buckley,
Rufus Thomas,
Pagans,
The Searchers,
Magazine,
Hasil Adkins,
Piero Umiliani,
The Associates,
Terry Callier,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Harpers Bizarre,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Donny Hathaway,
These Immortal Souls,
U.S. Maple,
Tommy Roe,
The Offenders,
Tom Boy,
the Swans,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Ultimate Spinach,
Cal Tjader,
Nation of Ulysses,
Scientists,
Wolf Eyes,
Khruangbin,
Popol Vuh,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Dark Day,
Eve St. Jones,
Adolescents,
Aloha Tigers,
Parry Music,
Second Layer,
Ohio Players,
The Gories,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pulsallama,
Tomorrow,
UT,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Red Krayola,
Black Flag,
PIL,
Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends, Loose Ends.
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.