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 Azerbaijan and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 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 Sam Rivers to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gladiators record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Alice Coltrane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Zapp,
Vladislav Delay,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Moleskins,
Cymande,
Boogie Down Productions,
Livin' Joy,
10cc,
Minor Threat,
Sight & Sound,
Circle Jerks,
MDC,
Blancmange,
Nirvana,
Harry Pussy,
Ice-T,
X-Ray Spex,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Rites of Spring,
Pere Ubu,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Juan Atkins,
Magma,
the Association,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Gories,
Gerry Rafferty,
Reagan Youth,
Jacob Miller,
Jawbox,
the Human League,
Maurizio,
Junior Murvin,
Neu!,
Yellowson,
Susan Cadogan,
a-ha,
The Buckinghams,
The Birthday Party,
Donald Byrd,
Pagans,
Suicide,
The Real Kids,
F. McDonald,
Amazonics,
Bill Wells,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Saints,
World's Most,
Whodini,
Gregory Isaacs,
Wasted Youth,
New York Dolls,
Eric Copeland,
Skaos,
The Human League,
Dual Sessions,
Mark Hollis,
Aaron Thompson,
Rotary Connection,
The Knickerbockers,
Idris Muhammad,
Ituana,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.