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 Panama and from Sao Paulo.
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 1963 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Wasted Youth to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All Man Eating Sloth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Chocolate Watch Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Human League,
The Index,
Bush Tetras,
Andrew Hill,
JFA,
Spandau Ballet,
Symarip,
Swans,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pierre Henry,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Fire Engines,
These Immortal Souls,
Procol Harum,
Kaleidoscope,
Deadbeat,
London Community Gospel Choir,
F. McDonald,
Country Teasers,
Minutemen,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Minnie Riperton,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Hot Snakes,
Kerrie Biddell,
Outsiders,
Lower 48,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Cowsills,
Fatback Band,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Shadows of Knight,
Basic Channel,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Doors,
Pharoah Sanders,
Traffic Nightmare,
Al Stewart,
Pagans,
Liliput,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scientists,
Magma,
Scratch Acid,
FM Einheit,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Tres Demented,
The Five Americans,
Zapp,
Kool Moe Dee,
H. Thieme,
Rites of Spring,
Flipper,
Lungfish,
OOIOO,
World's Most,
Ronan,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell, the Soft Cell.
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.