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 Russia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 marimba 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 Soft Cell to the jazz 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 In Retrospect. All the underground hits.
All Peter and Kerry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pet Shop Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deakin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sonics,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Pantaleimon,
Minutemen,
Shoche,
The Blackbyrds,
Aloha Tigers,
The Velvet Underground,
Shuggie Otis,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Sound Behaviour,
Crime,
Supertramp,
Cymande,
Jacob Miller,
Blossom Toes,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Names,
Angry Samoans,
Jerry's Kids,
Man Parrish,
Trumans Water,
The Smiths,
Sun City Girls,
Con Funk Shun,
Pet Shop Boys,
Goldenarms,
The Sound,
the Human League,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Jeru the Damaja,
Chris & Cosey,
The Invisible,
Icehouse,
The Mummies,
In Retrospect,
Bluetip,
Schoolly D,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Reagan Youth,
Lower 48,
Nils Olav,
Nas,
Joe Finger,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Marshall Jefferson,
Make Up,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Patti Smith,
Crooked Eye,
the Germs,
X-101,
Niagra,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Electric Prunes,
Maleditus Sound,
Monks, Monks, Monks, Monks.
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.