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 Zimbabwe and from Delhi.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 808 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 Man Parrish to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Strawberry Alarm Clock. All the underground hits.
All Larry & the Blue Notes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oppenheimer Analysis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Derrick May,
Kevin Saunderson,
Drexciya,
Icehouse,
Black Flag,
PIL,
The Associates,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Urselle,
Cybotron,
X-Ray Spex,
China Crisis,
Spandau Ballet,
The Modern Lovers,
Minutemen,
Sun Ra,
The Standells,
The Count Five,
R.M.O.,
Hasil Adkins,
Roy Ayers,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Ponytail,
the Germs,
Circle Jerks,
Minnie Riperton,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ice-T,
Buzzcocks,
Mark Hollis,
The Buckinghams,
Alphaville,
The Divine Comedy,
Albert Ayler,
Rapeman,
The Sound,
The Flesh Eaters,
Tommy Roe,
The Moleskins,
Section 25,
Harpers Bizarre,
Guru Guru,
Ossler,
Aloha Tigers,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
MDC,
X-101,
Sällskapet,
Donny Hathaway,
Essential Logic,
Kerrie Biddell,
Quantec,
Echospace,
Harry Pussy,
Talk Talk,
Theoretical Girls,
Stereo Dub,
Metal Thangz,
Grey Daturas,
Spoonie Gee,
Boz Scaggs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Terry Callier,
Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot, Fort Wilson Riot.
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.