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 Indonesia and from Seoul.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the punk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Vladislav Delay tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Franke 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Los Fastidios record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric Dolphy,
Bobby Byrd,
Talk Talk,
Suicide,
Rapeman,
Silicon Teens,
The Raincoats,
Nas,
Kool Moe Dee,
Aural Exciters,
Khruangbin,
Pet Shop Boys,
Fugazi,
Black Sheep,
Boogie Down Productions,
T. Rex,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Sandy B,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Moleskins,
Dead Boys,
Altered Images,
Procol Harum,
Shoche,
Index,
Sexual Harrassment,
Bluetip,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Roger Hodgson,
Subhumans,
Trumans Water,
the Slits,
Rekid,
The Smiths,
Loose Ends,
Mark Hollis,
Tres Demented,
The Offenders,
Scrapy,
Absolute Body Control,
Black Pus,
The Detroit Cobras,
Oneida,
The Barracudas,
Sun City Girls,
Grey Daturas,
Theoretical Girls,
Lungfish,
Roxy Music,
Youth Brigade,
Ossler,
Cybotron,
The Cure,
Magazine,
Gang Starr,
Ohio Players,
Fear,
Frankie Knuckles,
Crooked Eye,
The Blues Magoos,
Gichy Dan,
CMW, CMW, CMW, CMW.
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.