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 India and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Litter to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Bizarre Inc.. All the underground hits.
All Teenage Jesus and the Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every New Age Steppers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Silicon Teens,
Fad Gadget,
David Axelrod,
Ronan,
Half Japanese,
Faust,
Nick Fraelich,
Patti Smith,
Quadrant,
Isaac Hayes,
The Moleskins,
X-101,
Moebius,
R.M.O.,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Human League,
Unrelated Segments,
The Gladiators,
Drive Like Jehu,
Robert Hood,
Agent Orange,
Niagra,
The Electric Prunes,
Underground Resistance,
The Kinks,
Tres Demented,
10cc,
Piero Umiliani,
Motorama,
Pantytec,
Circle Jerks,
The Young Rascals,
Sun Ra,
Donny Hathaway,
Guru Guru,
Lyres,
Oneida,
Jawbox,
Radiopuhelimet,
Kerrie Biddell,
Hardrive,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Kas Product,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Black Sheep,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Iggy Pop,
Excepter,
Roxette,
Soulsonic Force,
Robert Görl,
The Zeros,
Newcleus,
Lindisfarne,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bobby Womack,
The Last Poets,
Althea and Donna,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Tom Boy,
The Slackers,
Spoonie Gee,
The Searchers,
Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen, Rosa Yemen.
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.