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 Sweden and from Lille.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Pantytec to the rap 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 Dave Gahan. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Black Dice record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Symarip,
Fat Boys,
Big Daddy Kane,
Altered Images,
Alphaville,
Gong,
Black Bananas,
Dave Gahan,
Hot Snakes,
Darondo,
Siglo XX,
World's Most,
Laurel Aitken,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Skaos,
Terry Callier,
New Age Steppers,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Radiopuhelimet,
MC5,
Bill Near,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
the Human League,
The Tremeloes,
Deakin,
Deepchord,
MDC,
Curtis Mayfield,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Marvin Gaye,
The Beau Brummels,
The American Breed,
Clear Light,
a-ha,
Isaac Hayes,
X-Ray Spex,
Rekid,
Oneida,
Henry Cow,
Pere Ubu,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Johnny Osbourne,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Infiniti,
The Sound,
Funkadelic,
Q65,
Joe Finger,
The Black Dice,
Marc Almond,
Jeff Lynne,
DJ Sneak,
Mad Mike,
Nirvana,
The Raincoats,
Lindisfarne,
The Shadows of Knight,
Ten City,
Black Sheep,
Cheater Slicks,
Nik Kershaw,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.