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 Korea South and from Accra.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the mellotron sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Eric Dolphy to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Rod Modell. All the underground hits.
All Kaleidoscope tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 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 Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Pop Group,
Swell Maps,
Idris Muhammad,
Das Ding,
The Velvet Underground,
Deakin,
Rod Modell,
T. Rex,
The Music Machine,
H. Thieme,
Crispian St. Peters,
DNA,
Von Mondo,
Babytalk,
Thee Headcoats,
Brass Construction,
Carl Craig,
Buzzcocks,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Procol Harum,
Mr. Review,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tres Demented,
Theoretical Girls,
Joy Division,
the Soft Cell,
Yaz,
The American Breed,
The Blues Magoos,
Nico,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Faraquet,
L. Decosne,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Robert Wyatt,
Gang Green,
Junior Murvin,
DJ Style,
Ludus,
Malaria!,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Guru Guru,
Aural Exciters,
Boogie Down Productions,
the Germs,
Trumans Water,
Dave Gahan,
Clear Light,
Connie Case,
Deadbeat,
Man Eating Sloth,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ohio Players,
Marcia Griffiths,
Swans,
Glambeats Corp.,
Darondo,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Morten Harket,
Brothers Johnson,
CMW, CMW, CMW, CMW.
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.