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 San Marino and from Winnipeg.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Crispian St. Peters to the crunk 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 Selector Dub Narcotic. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pet Shop Boys record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Zeros record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
The Evens,
Yusef Lateef,
Boz Scaggs,
Crooked Eye,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Bush Tetras,
Anakelly,
Nils Olav,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Sparks,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Mandrill,
the Sonics,
Pulsallama,
DNA,
Nik Kershaw,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Tears for Fears,
The Walker Brothers,
Gang of Four,
Grey Daturas,
John Holt,
Bootsy Collins,
Jawbox,
Desert Stars,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Gang Starr,
Laurel Aitken,
H. Thieme,
Vainqueur,
Harmonia,
Vladislav Delay,
Quando Quango,
Sonny Sharrock,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Fluxion,
The Modern Lovers,
The Knickerbockers,
Joe Smooth,
Saccharine Trust,
Camberwell Now,
Danielle Patucci,
Dual Sessions,
Pantaleimon,
Arthur Verocai,
The Gladiators,
Porter Ricks,
June Days,
The Blackbyrds,
Eric Dolphy,
Sandy B,
Simply Red,
X-Ray Spex,
Fear,
The Divine Comedy,
Unwound,
The Techniques,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Country Teasers,
Bang On A Can,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Tommy Roe,
Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths, Marcia Griffiths.
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.