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 Slovenia and from Spokane.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe 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 Patti Smith to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kas Product. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Piero Umiliani record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
MC5,
Brass Construction,
Von Mondo,
Theoretical Girls,
The Names,
Jacob Miller,
The Litter,
The Count Five,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
China Crisis,
Bobby Womack,
Hasil Adkins,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Marc Almond,
Grauzone,
Don Cherry,
Steve Hackett,
Throbbing Gristle,
Whodini,
Amazonics,
Moby Grape,
Thompson Twins,
The Slackers,
Oneida,
Harry Pussy,
Spandau Ballet,
Lou Reed,
the Slits,
EPMD,
Cybotron,
Magma,
Eurythmics,
Chris Corsano,
Stockholm Monsters,
Blossom Toes,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Move,
Iggy Pop,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Zeros,
Sällskapet,
Index,
Masters at Work,
Angry Samoans,
Public Enemy,
the Bar-Kays,
Bauhaus,
Joe Finger,
The Selecter,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Livin' Joy,
The Cowsills,
Monks,
Kayak,
Anthony Braxton,
The Mojo Men,
Barbara Tucker,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Fat Boys,
Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock, Strawberry Alarm Clock.
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.