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 Dominica and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 spring reverb 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 Joy Division to the crunk 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 World's Most. All the underground hits.
All The Dead C tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cameo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Urselle,
Cameo,
Porter Ricks,
Harpers Bizarre,
Banda Bassotti,
The Smoke,
Eurythmics,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eli Mardock,
The Slackers,
Pussy Galore,
the Swans,
Michelle Simonal,
Bootsy Collins,
Jeff Mills,
Ossler,
These Immortal Souls,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Sonics,
Steve Hackett,
Terry Callier,
Sly & The Family Stone,
H. Thieme,
Bang On A Can,
Aloha Tigers,
The Offenders,
Sarah Menescal,
Alton Ellis,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Arcadia,
Boz Scaggs,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
John Foxx,
Cybotron,
The Doors,
Silicon Teens,
Angry Samoans,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Tim Buckley,
Neil Young,
K-Klass,
Danielle Patucci,
Depeche Mode,
Lakeside,
Isaac Hayes,
Lou Christie,
Pantytec,
Althea and Donna,
The Knickerbockers,
Susan Cadogan,
Jandek,
John Cale,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Adolescents,
Warren Ellis,
Rosa Yemen,
Section 25,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Associates,
The Black Dice,
Rhythm & Sound,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.