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 South Africa and from Lagos.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Lindisfarne to the punk 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 Sexual Harrassment. All the underground hits.
All The Techniques tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eve St. Jones record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Half Japanese record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
The Doors,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Howard Jones,
The Stooges,
Icehouse,
Marshall Jefferson,
Aural Exciters,
Subhumans,
48th St. Collective,
Ponytail,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Grandmaster Flash,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Index,
Mars,
Kerrie Biddell,
LL Cool J,
Aloha Tigers,
The Golliwogs,
The Divine Comedy,
The Vogues,
Jeru the Damaja,
Livin' Joy,
The Blues Magoos,
Man Eating Sloth,
New York Dolls,
Terrestrial Tones,
Gang Gang Dance,
Scientists,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sam Rivers,
Avey Tare,
UT,
Kenny Larkin,
The Cramps,
Hardrive,
Marc Almond,
The Monks,
the Sonics,
U.S. Maple,
Monks,
Sight & Sound,
The Slits,
Skriet,
Soft Cell,
Moebius,
Jawbox,
Barclay James Harvest,
Wire,
Scratch Acid,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Cheater Slicks,
La Düsseldorf,
Little Man,
Organ,
Lungfish,
The Count Five,
Drexciya,
Rufus Thomas,
Scott Walker,
Moss Icon,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.