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 Jamaica and from Bologna.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 clarinet 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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell. All the underground hits.
All Aural Exciters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Alphaville record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Spoonie Gee record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Country Teasers,
The Martian,
Cheater Slicks,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Vladislav Delay,
Howard Jones,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Tropical Tobacco,
Josef K,
Stiv Bators,
Reagan Youth,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Seeds,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sun Ra,
The Cowsills,
Neil Young,
Stockholm Monsters,
Newcleus,
Grey Daturas,
Toni Rubio,
Jerry's Kids,
Nas,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Minny Pops,
FM Einheit,
Connie Case,
Harry Pussy,
The Golliwogs,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Wake,
The Techniques,
Inner City,
James White and The Blacks,
The Leaves,
Ludus,
The Searchers,
48th St. Collective,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pierre Henry,
Nick Fraelich,
Bauhaus,
CMW,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Dead C,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Real Kids,
The Toasters,
The Names,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Remains,
Rotary Connection,
June Days,
Albert Ayler,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Marcia Griffiths,
Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic, Selector Dub Narcotic.
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.