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 the UAE and from Johannesburg.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Godley & Creme. All the underground hits.
All Josef K tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Gun Club record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fortunes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
X-Ray Spex,
The Young Rascals,
The Smoke,
The Wake,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Tremeloes,
The Golliwogs,
Unrelated Segments,
Funkadelic,
Monks,
Crime,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Joy Division,
Y Pants,
Fatback Band,
Tubeway Army,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Matthew Bourne,
Skaos,
Silicon Teens,
Dennis Brown,
Zero Boys,
Sixth Finger,
Avey Tare,
Blake Baxter,
John Foxx,
Quantec,
DNA,
Freddie Wadling,
Make Up,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Dave Gahan,
Television,
Tommy Roe,
Wire,
Gang Starr,
Symarip,
Morten Harket,
Gichy Dan,
Matthew Halsall,
Sexual Harrassment,
Black Moon,
The Buckinghams,
The Fuzztones,
Derrick May,
Howard Jones,
Porter Ricks,
The Fugs,
Jimmy McGriff,
Robert Görl,
The Index,
Surgeon,
Flash Fearless,
Sugar Minott,
Fluxion,
Swell Maps,
R.M.O.,
Severed Heads,
Half Japanese,
Warren Ellis,
Youth Brigade,
The Fortunes,
Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters, Crispian St. Peters.
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.