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 Madagascar and from Woodstock.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Lalo Schifrin to the techno 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 Todd Rundgren. All the underground hits.
All The Mojo Men tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cowsills record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Y Pants,
This Heat,
The Electric Prunes,
Gang Green,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Amon Düül,
Pantytec,
Brick,
Pagans,
Spandau Ballet,
The Sonics,
Soul II Soul,
The Names,
The Toasters,
Das Ding,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Jacques Brel,
Soft Machine,
KRS-One,
The Birthday Party,
Curtis Mayfield,
Glambeats Corp.,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tom Boy,
The Golliwogs,
John Cale,
The New Christs,
Terry Callier,
Sam Rivers,
The Five Americans,
The Last Poets,
Tim Buckley,
Joey Negro,
Slave,
The Fall,
Drexciya,
Hashim,
Eden Ahbez,
Masters at Work,
Dark Day,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Gang Gang Dance,
Robert Hood,
Steve Hackett,
The Alarm Clocks,
Pantaleimon,
Moebius,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mad Mike,
Fugazi,
Pet Shop Boys,
Index,
Ralphi Rosario,
Malaria!,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx, Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx.
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.