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 Indonesia and from Sao Paulo.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Girls At Our Best! to the crunk 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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Saccharine Trust tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ash Ra Tempel record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Soft Cell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
The Detroit Cobras,
H. Thieme,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bootsy Collins,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
La Düsseldorf,
the Germs,
Fluxion,
Livin' Joy,
Agent Orange,
Pussy Galore,
Niagra,
Brand Nubian,
The Skatalites,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
June Days,
Silicon Teens,
Fela Kuti,
Metal Thangz,
Newcleus,
Rod Modell,
Sun Ra,
The Saints,
Sugar Minott,
The Gladiators,
Sarah Menescal,
Skriet,
Siglo XX,
Faust,
Fear,
Ralphi Rosario,
Brothers Johnson,
Andrew Hill,
Aaron Thompson,
The Star Department,
Max Romeo,
Thee Headcoats,
Wolf Eyes,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Leaves,
Shuggie Otis,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Lyres,
The Slackers,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Marvin Gaye,
Eric B and Rakim,
Franke,
Suicide,
Blossom Toes,
Pere Ubu,
Electric Prunes,
Don Cherry,
The Move,
Johnny Osbourne,
Dawn Penn,
The American Breed,
Scrapy,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Arthur Verocai,
The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills, The Cowsills.
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.