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 St Kitts & Nevis and from Lille.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ash Ra Tempel 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 Susan Cadogan. All the underground hits.
All Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bob Dylan record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bauhaus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Unwound,
Crispy Ambulance,
Freddie Wadling,
Rosa Yemen,
LL Cool J,
Barbara Tucker,
Lower 48,
Ponytail,
Rotary Connection,
Archie Shepp,
Tommy Roe,
Juan Atkins,
Spandau Ballet,
Depeche Mode,
Pylon,
Nick Fraelich,
The Angels of Light,
Michelle Simonal,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Toni Rubio,
Steve Hackett,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Black Dice,
Amon Düül II,
Lindisfarne,
Nation of Ulysses,
Yazoo,
Outsiders,
Kevin Saunderson,
Anthony Braxton,
New Age Steppers,
Althea and Donna,
Schoolly D,
The Divine Comedy,
The Invisible,
Fugazi,
Agent Orange,
Barrington Levy,
Procol Harum,
Nils Olav,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Maurizio,
Oneida,
Public Enemy,
Amazonics,
Sex Pistols,
Tears for Fears,
Boogie Down Productions,
Johnny Clarke,
Moby Grape,
The Shadows of Knight,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Barry Ungar,
X-Ray Spex,
Mission of Burma,
the Fania All-Stars,
Donny Hathaway,
Spoonie Gee,
The Gap Band,
Tres Demented,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith, Lonnie Liston Smith.
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.