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 Macedonia and from Portland.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Mandrill to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Throbbing Gristle. All the underground hits.
All kango's stein massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Last Poets record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Funkadelic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
Q65,
Quando Quango,
Bob Dylan,
Cybotron,
Jerry's Kids,
Rod Modell,
Ronnie Foster,
Flipper,
Kas Product,
Sällskapet,
Rufus Thomas,
John Coltrane,
The Music Machine,
Steve Hackett,
Accadde A,
Fat Boys,
Matthew Halsall,
Marmalade,
Morten Harket,
Swans,
These Immortal Souls,
Depeche Mode,
DNA,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Beasts of Bourbon,
the Slits,
Bauhaus,
Cheater Slicks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Severed Heads,
The Doobie Brothers,
L. Decosne,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Royal Trux,
Harmonia,
Jimmy McGriff,
Pagans,
Wasted Youth,
Sound Behaviour,
Yazoo,
Moebius,
Terrestrial Tones,
Saccharine Trust,
Fear,
Girls At Our Best!,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Trojans,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Standells,
Bad Manners,
Peter & Gordon,
David McCallum,
Neu!,
Black Bananas,
Camouflage,
Heaven 17,
The Five Americans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cluster,
Matthew Bourne,
Roxette,
the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays, the Bar-Kays.
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.