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 Vietnam and from New York.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Philadelphia.
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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Harry Pussy to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Sex Pistols tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Connie Case record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Crispian St. Peters,
Don Cherry,
Danielle Patucci,
Monolake,
48th St. Collective,
Stereo Dub,
The Evens,
Crash Course in Science,
The Five Americans,
X-102,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
D'Angelo,
Rekid,
Susan Cadogan,
EPMD,
Janne Schatter,
Ultimate Spinach,
Tubeway Army,
The American Breed,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Chrome,
The Selecter,
Zapp,
Eden Ahbez,
Black Flag,
Black Bananas,
The Invisible,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Pole,
Brand Nubian,
Hashim,
Amazonics,
Hardrive,
The Cowsills,
Pierre Henry,
Scan 7,
Ten City,
Eddi Front,
Theoretical Girls,
Erasure,
Bang On A Can,
Albert Ayler,
Wally Richardson,
Stetsasonic,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Average White Band,
Bill Near,
Pagans,
Echospace,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Slits,
Jacques Brel,
Suburban Knight,
The Skatalites,
Leonard Cohen,
Sonic Youth,
John Lydon,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.