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 Costa Rica and from Cairo.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Cosmic Jokers to the punk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Curtis Mayfield. All the underground hits.
All Hashim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sly & The Family Stone 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Donny Hathaway,
Sight & Sound,
Sex Pistols,
K-Klass,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Throbbing Gristle,
Jandek,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Faust,
Heaven 17,
One Last Wish,
Quando Quango,
Bill Wells,
Adolescents,
Amazonics,
Aloha Tigers,
Wolf Eyes,
Talk Talk,
The Velvet Underground,
The Fortunes,
Traffic Nightmare,
Prince Buster,
The Real Kids,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scrapy,
Swans,
The Cramps,
The Busters,
Warren Ellis,
Peter and Kerry,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
ABBA,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Red Krayola,
Cheater Slicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Harry Pussy,
Todd Rundgren,
Connie Case,
Reagan Youth,
Howard Jones,
Gichy Dan,
Rekid,
Man Parrish,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Cybotron,
Masters at Work,
Patti Smith,
Magma,
Isaac Hayes,
Y Pants,
The Cure,
Yaz,
the Human League,
Morten Harket,
Saccharine Trust,
Neu!,
Yellowson,
Hoover,
Robert Hood,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.