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 Philippines and from Jakarta.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Black Sheep to the dance 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 Traffic Nightmare. All the underground hits.
All The Sonics tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soulsonic Force 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Judy Mowatt,
Sun Ra,
Pulsallama,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Durutti Column,
Deepchord,
Pussy Galore,
Amon Düül,
Flamin' Groovies,
Vladislav Delay,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Ralphi Rosario,
Khruangbin,
Deadbeat,
Barbara Tucker,
Mary Jane Girls,
Angry Samoans,
Lindisfarne,
Bill Near,
Danielle Patucci,
Icehouse,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Interpol,
Terry Callier,
Jeff Lynne,
Jimmy McGriff,
Organ,
JFA,
Ken Boothe,
The Litter,
Nirvana,
China Crisis,
Blake Baxter,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Eric B and Rakim,
Fat Boys,
Malaria!,
Ronan,
Little Man,
Avey Tare,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Toni Rubio,
The Mummies,
Prince Buster,
Swans,
Los Fastidios,
Suicide,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Absolute Body Control,
Neu!,
Gichy Dan,
Matthew Halsall,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Patti Smith,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Birthday Party,
Ten City, Ten City, Ten City, Ten City.
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.