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 Niger and from Glasgow.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Joyce Sims to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Eve St. Jones. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Shuggie Otis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Byron Stingily,
Erasure,
Skriet,
Ituana,
The Star Department,
Barclay James Harvest,
Duran Duran,
Delta 5,
Max Romeo,
Crash Course in Science,
The Flesh Eaters,
Oblivians,
Jeff Mills,
Pere Ubu,
The Invisible,
Bronski Beat,
Tres Demented,
Jawbox,
The Toasters,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
In Retrospect,
Blancmange,
Bobby Sherman,
Jeru the Damaja,
The J.B.'s,
Cheater Slicks,
Sällskapet,
Cameo,
Dennis Brown,
Angry Samoans,
The Electric Prunes,
Franke,
The Fugs,
The Victims,
Dark Day,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Donald Byrd,
Steve Hackett,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Brick,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Boz Scaggs,
MDC,
Dave Gahan,
Ossler,
Dead Boys,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Boogie Down Productions,
Nik Kershaw,
Eve St. Jones,
Gang of Four,
the Association,
Monks,
Robert Wyatt,
Flash Fearless,
Section 25,
The Monochrome Set,
Lindisfarne,
Rod Modell,
The Cure,
Ralphi Rosario,
Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike, Mad Mike.
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.