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 Bhutan and from Taipei.
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 1964 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Sixth Finger to the rock 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 The Evens. All the underground hits.
All Cluster 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 grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soul II Soul record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Wolf Eyes,
Fad Gadget,
Ultravox,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
John Lydon,
Arcadia,
Minny Pops,
Franke,
Todd Terry,
June of 44,
Amazonics,
Henry Cow,
Bootsy Collins,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Barry Ungar,
The Red Krayola,
John Holt,
Harpers Bizarre,
Althea and Donna,
LL Cool J,
The Zeros,
Sparks,
Motorama,
Banda Bassotti,
Throbbing Gristle,
The Martian,
Ultimate Spinach,
Con Funk Shun,
Roxy Music,
The Kinks,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Aaron Thompson,
Neu!,
Spandau Ballet,
the Bar-Kays,
Dorothy Ashby,
Carl Craig,
The Searchers,
Lou Christie,
Eddi Front,
Gregory Isaacs,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Cowsills,
Adolescents,
Angry Samoans,
The Toasters,
Marc Almond,
Magma,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Metal Thangz,
The Stooges,
Jimmy McGriff,
Blake Baxter,
The New Christs,
Boredoms,
The Remains,
Robert Görl,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Aswad,
Organ,
Girls At Our Best!,
Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade, Youth Brigade.
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.