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 Belgium and from Winnipeg.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Seoul.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Ponytail to the grime 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 Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Susan Cadogan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Robert Wyatt,
Byron Stingily,
Ken Boothe,
Jeff Mills,
Section 25,
Hot Snakes,
Pussy Galore,
These Immortal Souls,
Crispy Ambulance,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Roy Ayers,
Anakelly,
Minny Pops,
The Smoke,
World's Most,
Cluster,
Funky Four + One,
Little Man,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Crime,
Masters at Work,
The Evens,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Scientists,
The Techniques,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The New Christs,
Fatback Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Hasil Adkins,
Slave,
Brick,
The Red Krayola,
K-Klass,
Warren Ellis,
Frankie Knuckles,
Patti Smith,
Aural Exciters,
DJ Style,
Porter Ricks,
Mr. Review,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
the Slits,
Janne Schatter,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Dead C,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Wasted Youth,
Sixth Finger,
A Certain Ratio,
Scott Walker,
Sällskapet,
The Happenings,
Niagra,
Suicide,
The Offenders,
The Moleskins,
The Buckinghams,
H. Thieme,
Joey Negro,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.