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 Austria and from Woodstock.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The Chocolate Watch Band to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Real Kids. All the underground hits.
All La Düsseldorf tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Graham Central Station record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Marcia Griffiths,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sonny Sharrock,
Skaos,
Hardrive,
Minny Pops,
Mr. Review,
Average White Band,
the Bar-Kays,
the Fania All-Stars,
Graham Central Station,
Maleditus Sound,
New York Dolls,
Glenn Branca,
Yaz,
Camberwell Now,
Grey Daturas,
Mandrill,
The Count Five,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
It's A Beautiful Day,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Bauhaus,
Godley & Creme,
Pole,
Qualms,
kango's stein massive,
Jacques Brel,
Gastr Del Sol,
Nik Kershaw,
The Detroit Cobras,
A Certain Ratio,
The Selecter,
The Modern Lovers,
Kayak,
the Normal,
Television Personalities,
Eurythmics,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Sun Ra,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Saccharine Trust,
Donny Hathaway,
Aural Exciters,
Albert Ayler,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Joe Smooth,
Drive Like Jehu,
Frankie Knuckles,
Schoolly D,
Moby Grape,
Brothers Johnson,
Trumans Water,
DJ Sneak,
Ash Ra Tempel,
David McCallum,
Magma,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sandy B,
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.