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 Iraq and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 snare 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 L. Decosne. All the underground hits.
All World's Most tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Junior Murvin 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 snare and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jawbox record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Supertramp,
Inner City,
Japan,
Ronan,
Lower 48,
Boz Scaggs,
The Doobie Brothers,
Hot Snakes,
The Shadows of Knight,
H. Thieme,
Tubeway Army,
The Knickerbockers,
Depeche Mode,
Chrome,
Oblivians,
X-102,
Connie Case,
Throbbing Gristle,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Roxy Music,
Tropical Tobacco,
Blossom Toes,
Soft Cell,
Sixth Finger,
Pet Shop Boys,
Sällskapet,
Liliput,
Max Romeo,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Brand Nubian,
Rekid,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Danielle Patucci,
Arthur Verocai,
The Moleskins,
ABC,
The Associates,
The Gladiators,
The Divine Comedy,
The Count Five,
Barclay James Harvest,
EPMD,
Warsaw,
Sight & Sound,
Jeff Lynne,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Wings,
Marmalade,
Susan Cadogan,
Bush Tetras,
Sound Behaviour,
Lou Christie,
Monolake,
Aural Exciters,
Jacques Brel,
Cluster,
Panda Bear,
Gang Gang Dance,
Roxette,
The Toasters,
Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock, Eli Mardock.
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.