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 Denmark and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Accra.
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 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 Black Bananas to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Rakim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ponytail record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Q65,
Alice Coltrane,
Rufus Thomas,
The Selecter,
Althea and Donna,
DNA,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Grey Daturas,
New Age Steppers,
The Five Americans,
Nick Fraelich,
the Slits,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Michelle Simonal,
L. Decosne,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Infiniti,
Kerrie Biddell,
Jeru the Damaja,
Banda Bassotti,
The Fuzztones,
Sparks,
Brothers Johnson,
Suicide,
Con Funk Shun,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
the Germs,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Smog,
Arcadia,
The Knickerbockers,
Jacob Miller,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Skatalites,
Piero Umiliani,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pylon,
The Slits,
LL Cool J,
The Names,
Accadde A,
Lee Hazlewood,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Howard Jones,
Byron Stingily,
Inner City,
Surgeon,
The Cramps,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Robert Wyatt,
Desert Stars,
La Düsseldorf,
Colin Newman,
Terry Callier,
World's Most,
Donny Hathaway,
Gang Gang Dance,
Joyce Sims,
Pagans,
Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz.
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.