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 Bahamas and from Philadelphia.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the güiro 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 The Human League to the jazz 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 Sound Behaviour. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camouflage record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Television,
Motorama,
Robert Hood,
Eurythmics,
Toni Rubio,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Bill Near,
Zapp,
The Saints,
Roger Hodgson,
Jandek,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
a-ha,
Donny Hathaway,
Skaos,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Neil Young,
Banda Bassotti,
Donald Byrd,
The J.B.'s,
Anthony Braxton,
June Days,
Marshall Jefferson,
Quando Quango,
Arthur Verocai,
Kerri Chandler,
the Sonics,
Nas,
Barrington Levy,
Peter and Kerry,
Simply Red,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Moss Icon,
Dead Boys,
The Cramps,
The Pretty Things,
The Busters,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Traffic Nightmare,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Dead C,
Grandmaster Flash,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Jerry Gold Smith,
Urselle,
The Knickerbockers,
The Sound,
Tom Boy,
Avey Tare,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Basic Channel,
Cal Tjader,
Babytalk,
B.T. Express,
Tropical Tobacco,
Todd Terry,
Boz Scaggs,
Junior Murvin,
Matthew Bourne,
Rapeman,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction, Brass Construction.
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.