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 Albania and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Cameo to the grime 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 Ultimate Spinach. All the underground hits.
All Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smiths record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Crash Course in Science,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The New Christs,
The Cowsills,
James White and The Blacks,
Symarip,
Pylon,
Bobby Womack,
Underground Resistance,
Avey Tare,
Frankie Knuckles,
Loose Ends,
Don Cherry,
the Swans,
The Blackbyrds,
Oneida,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Buckinghams,
China Crisis,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Juan Atkins,
Gichy Dan,
Marine Girls,
Grandmaster Flash,
Mr. Review,
Aswad,
The Skatalites,
The Moody Blues,
Qualms,
Robert Görl,
Procol Harum,
Pole,
Sister Nancy,
Barbara Tucker,
Marvin Gaye,
Eric Copeland,
The Litter,
Rekid,
The Young Rascals,
Black Flag,
Mary Jane Girls,
Stiv Bators,
Surgeon,
The Music Machine,
The Doors,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Janne Schatter,
Freddie Wadling,
Kurtis Blow,
Scientists,
Joyce Sims,
Monks,
The Detroit Cobras,
Basic Channel,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Whodini,
Skriet,
Moebius,
Fela Kuti,
David Axelrod,
Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter, Blake Baxter.
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.