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 United Kingdom and from Portland.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Loose Ends to the grunge 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 Warren Ellis. All the underground hits.
All Richard Hell and the Voidoids tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wolf Eyes 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kings Of Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crime,
Wire,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Peter & Gordon,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Normal,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Funky Four + One,
Gastr Del Sol,
Pole,
Symarip,
The Seeds,
Max Romeo,
John Cale,
Shuggie Otis,
H. Thieme,
Eurythmics,
Von Mondo,
One Last Wish,
Fela Kuti,
The Doors,
Scrapy,
Fat Boys,
Johnny Clarke,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Black Moon,
the Human League,
Lungfish,
Tim Buckley,
The Mummies,
Brick,
Gang Starr,
Donald Byrd,
Josef K,
Kaleidoscope,
Stereo Dub,
Pussy Galore,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Trojans,
The Moleskins,
Anakelly,
Alison Limerick,
New Order,
Dead Boys,
Black Bananas,
Eden Ahbez,
Chris & Cosey,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Nick Fraelich,
The Selecter,
Pantytec,
These Immortal Souls,
The Mojo Men,
The American Breed,
Black Pus,
Erasure,
Kevin Saunderson,
Sonic Youth,
The Smoke,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Saints,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.