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 United Kingdom and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Metal Thangz to the techno 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 Bang On A Can. All the underground hits.
All Delta 5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Trojans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Real Kids record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Joe Finger,
U.S. Maple,
Harry Pussy,
Arthur Verocai,
Connie Case,
Lalann,
Thompson Twins,
Deadbeat,
Minny Pops,
Roxette,
Buzzcocks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Malaria!,
Marc Almond,
Colin Newman,
The Birthday Party,
Electric Prunes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Make Up,
Cal Tjader,
Chrome,
48th St. Collective,
Supertramp,
Barclay James Harvest,
Gabor Szabo,
Rotary Connection,
The Move,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Judy Mowatt,
Jeff Mills,
Grauzone,
Glambeats Corp.,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Crooked Eye,
X-101,
Mary Jane Girls,
Bad Manners,
Barrington Levy,
Echospace,
Warren Ellis,
Todd Rundgren,
Rapeman,
Smog,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Cure,
The Fire Engines,
Talk Talk,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scientists,
The Associates,
Tommy Roe,
Eden Ahbez,
Skarface,
Robert Görl,
Arab on Radar,
Qualms,
Cameo,
Steve Hackett,
Tim Buckley,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scott Walker,
Intrusion,
David Axelrod,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.