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 the UAE and from Jakarta.
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 Manchester and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Roxette to the grunge 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 Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Eric Copeland tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sandy B 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ituana record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
These Immortal Souls,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
the Normal,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Piero Umiliani,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Cheater Slicks,
Section 25,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Prince Buster,
The Last Poets,
Pantaleimon,
The Toasters,
Barbara Tucker,
Oneida,
The Slackers,
Carl Craig,
Thompson Twins,
The Associates,
K-Klass,
Severed Heads,
Zero Boys,
Kevin Saunderson,
Can,
Zapp,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sandy B,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Stockholm Monsters,
Black Moon,
The Smoke,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Raincoats,
Kool Moe Dee,
Tom Boy,
The Barracudas,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sam Rivers,
Morten Harket,
Deadbeat,
The Tremeloes,
Khruangbin,
Arcadia,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Hoover,
the Bar-Kays,
Suburban Knight,
The Litter,
Wolf Eyes,
Sun Ra,
The Invisible,
Whodini,
Howard Jones,
The Pretty Things,
Graham Central Station,
Babytalk,
Marine Girls,
Alison Limerick,
The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers, The Cosmic Jokers.
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.