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 Sudan and from Philadelphia.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Rites of Spring tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Janne Schatter record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
H. Thieme,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Fugs,
Dead Boys,
Camberwell Now,
Man Parrish,
Sun Ra,
Can,
Sugar Minott,
Magazine,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
China Crisis,
Livin' Joy,
Spandau Ballet,
The Fire Engines,
Scott Walker,
Stetsasonic,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Joe Smooth,
Nils Olav,
Thompson Twins,
Amon Düül II,
Angry Samoans,
The Shadows of Knight,
Altered Images,
Japan,
Peter and Kerry,
Procol Harum,
Fluxion,
Model 500,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Freddie Wadling,
Jerry's Kids,
Dark Day,
Circle Jerks,
Swell Maps,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Scion,
David McCallum,
Lyres,
The Star Department,
Cluster,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Los Fastidios,
Severed Heads,
Malaria!,
Quando Quango,
The Velvet Underground,
Fatback Band,
Negative Approach,
Chrome,
Lalann,
The Raincoats,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Doors,
Byron Stingily,
Roger Hodgson,
A Certain Ratio,
Rekid,
Pulsallama,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Sarah Menescal,
Barrington Levy,
Absolute Body Control,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five, Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.
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.