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 Comoros and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Television to the punk 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Moebius,
John Cale,
Mr. Review,
EPMD,
Joy Division,
Hashim,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Terry Callier,
Rakim,
The Standells,
Severed Heads,
Thee Headcoats,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Motorama,
Lungfish,
the Association,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Model 500,
The Barracudas,
Panda Bear,
Ralphi Rosario,
10cc,
Delta 5,
Royal Trux,
Godley & Creme,
Wire,
Amon Düül II,
Jacques Brel,
Grandmaster Flash,
Warren Ellis,
Masters at Work,
Cameo,
T.S.O.L.,
The Stooges,
Lindisfarne,
Kool Moe Dee,
Bobbi Humphrey,
the Swans,
Charles Mingus,
Blossom Toes,
Ash Ra Tempel,
New Order,
Japan,
The Dead C,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dual Sessions,
The Victims,
Accadde A,
Pet Shop Boys,
The Offenders,
Al Stewart,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Bauhaus,
B.T. Express,
Shuggie Otis,
Sam Rivers,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Con Funk Shun,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Litter, The Litter, The Litter, The Litter.
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.