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 Peru and from Manila.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the linndrum 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 John Cale to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Soul Sonic Force. All the underground hits.
All Boz Scaggs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rosa Yemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Monks,
The Real Kids,
Letta Mbulu,
Bobby Sherman,
Harry Pussy,
X-101,
48th St. Collective,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Jeff Mills,
Ken Boothe,
Donny Hathaway,
Oblivians,
Supertramp,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Smoke,
The Leaves,
Y Pants,
The Kinks,
Fad Gadget,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Tomorrow,
Joy Division,
The Golliwogs,
The Trojans,
Nik Kershaw,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Camouflage,
Buzzcocks,
Steve Hackett,
MC5,
Johnny Clarke,
the Normal,
Rotary Connection,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pere Ubu,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
T. Rex,
Fugazi,
The Sonics,
OOIOO,
The Birthday Party,
Prince Buster,
Mark Hollis,
Blossom Toes,
Lyres,
Scientists,
The Saints,
Susan Cadogan,
The Remains,
The Blues Magoos,
Duran Duran,
Aloha Tigers,
The Detroit Cobras,
Robert Hood,
Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon, Moss Icon.
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.