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 Cape Verde and from Mumbai.
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 1962 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 New York Dolls to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Shoche. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Hutcherson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Iggy Pop 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brothers Johnson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Rekid,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Iggy Pop,
Donny Hathaway,
The Fuzztones,
Skaos,
Boogie Down Productions,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Hashim,
Shuggie Otis,
Kaleidoscope,
June of 44,
Mandrill,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Bob Dylan,
Circle Jerks,
Amon Düül,
Buzzcocks,
Aaron Thompson,
Hasil Adkins,
Morten Harket,
Reuben Wilson,
Joensuu 1685,
Black Sheep,
Japan,
Reagan Youth,
Flipper,
Guru Guru,
Fear,
Y Pants,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
KRS-One,
Archie Shepp,
The Seeds,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gichy Dan,
Connie Case,
Alison Limerick,
Bobby Byrd,
Sexual Harrassment,
Dead Boys,
Soft Cell,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Television,
The Star Department,
Porter Ricks,
Nico,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Wire,
The Misunderstood,
The Mojo Men,
Unwound,
Yusef Lateef,
Gil Scott Heron,
Angry Samoans,
Bush Tetras,
Q and Not U,
Marcia Griffiths,
Anakelly,
The Trojans,
Aloha Tigers,
Visage, Visage, Visage, Visage.
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.