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 Belize and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Outsiders to the disco kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sight & Sound record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nils Olav record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joy Division,
Nils Olav,
Mary Jane Girls,
Banda Bassotti,
Altered Images,
John Foxx,
Yazoo,
Bobby Sherman,
The Leaves,
Fluxion,
Bobby Byrd,
Lebanon Hanover,
Iggy Pop,
The Gories,
The United States of America,
Moebius,
Icehouse,
Dave Gahan,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Letta Mbulu,
This Heat,
Nik Kershaw,
John Holt,
Bill Wells,
Gang of Four,
Khruangbin,
Man Parrish,
the Germs,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pulsallama,
Lakeside,
Ice-T,
Tom Boy,
The Doobie Brothers,
Absolute Body Control,
Nirvana,
Severed Heads,
The Modern Lovers,
A Certain Ratio,
The Pretty Things,
Hasil Adkins,
Kerri Chandler,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Howard Jones,
Sound Behaviour,
Eric Copeland,
Half Japanese,
Stetsasonic,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Stockholm Monsters,
Sexual Harrassment,
Quantec,
Marc Almond,
Tommy Roe,
Cymande,
The Sonics,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Lalann,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Traffic Nightmare,
Minnie Riperton,
Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman, Ornette Coleman.
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.