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 Bangladesh 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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 The Saints to the rock 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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Easy Going tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a kango's stein massive record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Wings,
The Seeds,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Don Cherry,
The Gladiators,
Flamin' Groovies,
Bobby Hutcherson,
UT,
FM Einheit,
Marmalade,
Pole,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Kinks,
Robert Wyatt,
The Offenders,
Michelle Simonal,
Alice Coltrane,
Laurel Aitken,
The Happenings,
Trumans Water,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Rekid,
Deepchord,
Davy DMX,
Althea and Donna,
Mars,
Scratch Acid,
The Techniques,
The Moleskins,
Tubeway Army,
Surgeon,
The Move,
Mary Jane Girls,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Todd Terry,
John Coltrane,
Maurizio,
Maleditus Sound,
Heaven 17,
Hoover,
Bill Near,
Marc Almond,
Pere Ubu,
Parry Music,
Stereo Dub,
Gichy Dan,
Ultra Naté,
Marine Girls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Faust,
Colin Newman,
Banda Bassotti,
Section 25,
Goldenarms,
Barbara Tucker,
John Lydon,
Joey Negro,
Grauzone,
Q65,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Suicide,
Sexual Harrassment,
Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan, Susan Cadogan.
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.