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 Norway and from Spokane.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Brass Construction to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Andrew Hill record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maleditus Sound,
Robert Hood,
Interpol,
Jeff Mills,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Mr. Review,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Dave Clark Five,
Ultra Naté,
Marc Almond,
Eddi Front,
Ronan,
Lower 48,
Tom Boy,
The Gladiators,
Scrapy,
Kaleidoscope,
Monolake,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Matthew Halsall,
Niagra,
Vainqueur,
The Mojo Men,
Bill Wells,
T.S.O.L.,
Ultimate Spinach,
Adolescents,
Slick Rick,
The Raincoats,
Delon & Dalcan,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lucky Dragons,
The Litter,
Flipper,
Magma,
Can,
Babytalk,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Marmalade,
Grandmaster Flash,
Pet Shop Boys,
Tommy Roe,
Nirvana,
Heaven 17,
Crash Course in Science,
The Fire Engines,
Scratch Acid,
Pussy Galore,
Metal Thangz,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Nik Kershaw,
Jimmy McGriff,
Laurel Aitken,
The New Christs,
The Last Poets,
Byron Stingily,
Kool Moe Dee,
Fela Kuti,
Fad Gadget,
Bush Tetras,
Mantronix,
Loose Ends,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.