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 Iceland and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Ossler to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft. All the underground hits.
All Thee Headcoats tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scratch Acid,
Hashim,
Bill Near,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Eurythmics,
The Fugs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Doors,
The Knickerbockers,
Shuggie Otis,
Deakin,
Harry Pussy,
MDC,
Oneida,
The Dead C,
Infiniti,
Flipper,
Eric Copeland,
Urselle,
Blancmange,
Bad Manners,
Colin Newman,
Livin' Joy,
Swans,
Desert Stars,
Lalo Schifrin,
Funky Four + One,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sonny Sharrock,
K-Klass,
Television,
Section 25,
Jerry's Kids,
Sparks,
The Red Krayola,
Joey Negro,
Nico,
John Foxx,
the Soft Cell,
Parry Music,
The Dave Clark Five,
Amon Düül,
Cal Tjader,
Bob Dylan,
Siglo XX,
Sam Rivers,
Erasure,
Inner City,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Wolf Eyes,
Big Daddy Kane,
Magma,
Ralphi Rosario,
Camberwell Now,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Remains,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Rotary Connection,
Slave,
The Smoke,
Deepchord,
Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy, Public Enemy.
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.