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 Seychelles and from Shanghai.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Lower 48 to the electroclash 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 Barbara Tucker. All the underground hits.
All Masters at Work tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dorothy Ashby record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Drexciya,
Kool Moe Dee,
Surgeon,
Connie Case,
Laurel Aitken,
Wally Richardson,
Mission of Burma,
Harry Pussy,
Soft Machine,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Harmonia,
The Barracudas,
Blake Baxter,
The Five Americans,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Technova,
Pagans,
Skaos,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lyres,
Clear Light,
Throbbing Gristle,
Steve Hackett,
Bobby Byrd,
Glenn Branca,
the Normal,
Flipper,
The American Breed,
the Swans,
Mandrill,
Malaria!,
Fat Boys,
Rites of Spring,
Nico,
Television,
Wolf Eyes,
Deadbeat,
Deepchord,
Grey Daturas,
The Kinks,
Groovy Waters,
John Coltrane,
Bronski Beat,
a-ha,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Kayak,
Godley & Creme,
Minor Threat,
Andrew Hill,
Q and Not U,
The Last Poets,
The Doobie Brothers,
Josef K,
Bobby Sherman,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Blancmange,
UT,
Ronnie Foster,
Ralphi Rosario,
June of 44,
The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola, The Red Krayola.
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.