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 United States and from Philadelphia.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Radiopuhelimet to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Black Dice. All the underground hits.
All Massinfluence tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Matthew Bourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bob Dylan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Janne Schatter,
Bauhaus,
Ultra Naté,
Thee Headcoats,
The Fuzztones,
Make Up,
Joe Finger,
Cameo,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Blossom Toes,
Terry Callier,
Drexciya,
Alice Coltrane,
The Names,
8 Eyed Spy,
Joe Smooth,
Y Pants,
Aaron Thompson,
Mr. Review,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
The Searchers,
Cal Tjader,
Circle Jerks,
Half Japanese,
Glambeats Corp.,
Scientists,
Lyres,
Lalann,
Alphaville,
Mo-Dettes,
Ornette Coleman,
Kool Moe Dee,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Heaven 17,
Loose Ends,
X-Ray Spex,
Wally Richardson,
the Swans,
Letta Mbulu,
Matthew Bourne,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Oblivians,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Slick Rick,
Nik Kershaw,
The Moody Blues,
Colin Newman,
Jandek,
The Raincoats,
Lungfish,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Sugar Minott,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Juan Atkins,
Bluetip,
Stockholm Monsters,
Black Bananas,
T.S.O.L.,
Zero Boys,
Grauzone,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Interpol,
Ossler,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.