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 Brunei and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the snare 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 Accadde A 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 Brand Nubian. All the underground hits.
All Black Flag tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a a-ha record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Theoretical Girls,
Ponytail,
Joyce Sims,
Bad Manners,
Sam Rivers,
Sixth Finger,
Spandau Ballet,
The Blues Magoos,
Big Daddy Kane,
OOIOO,
Soul Sonic Force,
Grauzone,
Kurtis Blow,
Schoolly D,
Soul II Soul,
Marc Almond,
Reagan Youth,
Massinfluence,
Fluxion,
Ituana,
Skriet,
These Immortal Souls,
The Detroit Cobras,
Bauhaus,
Angry Samoans,
Pere Ubu,
Todd Terry,
Jacob Miller,
Cybotron,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Mission of Burma,
Scott Walker,
Monks,
Urselle,
Lightning Bolt,
Bang On A Can,
Susan Cadogan,
The Cowsills,
Ultravox,
ABBA,
The Searchers,
Slave,
Flamin' Groovies,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Rapeman,
Vladislav Delay,
Frankie Knuckles,
Donald Byrd,
The J.B.'s,
Kevin Saunderson,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Quando Quango,
Kenny Larkin,
Black Sheep,
The Trojans,
The New Christs,
Desert Stars,
H. Thieme,
B.T. Express,
Roy Ayers,
The Doors,
Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson, Yellowson.
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.