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 Tonga and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Rekid to the techno 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 the Human League. All the underground hits.
All Althea and Donna tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Robert Wyatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 chamberlin 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 rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Bobby Womack,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rhythm & Sound,
Tres Demented,
Swell Maps,
Sound Behaviour,
Von Mondo,
Jimmy McGriff,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Buckinghams,
Alton Ellis,
The Human League,
Avey Tare,
Anthony Braxton,
Mars,
Glambeats Corp.,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Todd Terry,
Bauhaus,
Organ,
Slave,
Johnny Osbourne,
Gerry Rafferty,
Porter Ricks,
Skaos,
Joe Finger,
June of 44,
Jeru the Damaja,
Aaron Thompson,
Talk Talk,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Donny Hathaway,
The Leaves,
Gang Starr,
The Young Rascals,
The Raincoats,
L. Decosne,
Freddie Wadling,
Big Daddy Kane,
Howard Jones,
Duran Duran,
Youth Brigade,
Monolake,
Mr. Review,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Terry Callier,
Los Fastidios,
The Misunderstood,
Audionom,
Roxy Music,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Index,
Ken Boothe,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Swans,
Susan Cadogan,
The Evens, The Evens, The Evens, The Evens.
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.