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 Albania and from Jakarta.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Flesh Eaters to the punk 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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Soft Cell tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson 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 an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Lynne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Das Ding,
Sex Pistols,
Soulsonic Force,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Parry Music,
Prince Buster,
Audionom,
Gang of Four,
Black Bananas,
Excepter,
Fat Boys,
T. Rex,
Soft Cell,
The Happenings,
John Lydon,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Blossom Toes,
Sister Nancy,
Matthew Bourne,
The Stooges,
Interpol,
John Cale,
Ultra Naté,
Surgeon,
the Human League,
Aural Exciters,
Jawbox,
Hoover,
Blancmange,
Bush Tetras,
Pagans,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Drive Like Jehu,
Cluster,
The Trojans,
The Vogues,
Joe Finger,
The Invisible,
Faust,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Slits,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Minny Pops,
Joensuu 1685,
The Slackers,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mad Mike,
Soul II Soul,
T.S.O.L.,
Half Japanese,
Minnie Riperton,
Lindisfarne,
Grauzone,
Swell Maps,
Barry Ungar,
Kas Product,
Danielle Patucci,
Sparks,
H. Thieme,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.