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 Panama and from Beijing.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 The J.B.'s to the funk 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Sonny Sharrock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every B.T. Express record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Barracudas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DJ Style,
Surgeon,
Grey Daturas,
Albert Ayler,
Magma,
Maurizio,
Alice Coltrane,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Visage,
Mark Hollis,
The Remains,
MC5,
Man Parrish,
Curtis Mayfield,
Carl Craig,
Audionom,
Johnny Clarke,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Anthony Braxton,
The Durutti Column,
Fatback Band,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Subhumans,
Excepter,
Second Layer,
Brand Nubian,
Unwound,
Trumans Water,
Crime,
Groovy Waters,
Nick Fraelich,
Q and Not U,
The Gladiators,
Idris Muhammad,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Dark Day,
Goldenarms,
Television Personalities,
Angry Samoans,
New Order,
Gang Green,
Guru Guru,
Procol Harum,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Jeff Mills,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Residents,
Hardrive,
Rotary Connection,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Spandau Ballet,
FM Einheit,
Gerry Rafferty,
Marmalade,
Boredoms,
Jerry's Kids,
Chris Corsano,
R.M.O.,
The Count Five,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Grass Roots,
the Soft Cell,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.