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 Gabon and from Lyon.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 X-102 to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Bizarre Inc.. All the underground hits.
All Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Image Ltd. record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s 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 Funkadelic 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?
Anakelly,
Lalo Schifrin,
Gang Green,
Delta 5,
Aaron Thompson,
Curtis Mayfield,
Sixth Finger,
Roger Hodgson,
Nick Fraelich,
The Monochrome Set,
Funkadelic,
Moby Grape,
Skaos,
The Durutti Column,
Severed Heads,
CMW,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Half Japanese,
Radio Birdman,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
New Order,
Saccharine Trust,
Average White Band,
Kurtis Blow,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Liliput,
Make Up,
Newcleus,
Stockholm Monsters,
Rapeman,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Deadbeat,
Ornette Coleman,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Godley & Creme,
the Fania All-Stars,
X-102,
Amon Düül II,
Minor Threat,
Man Parrish,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Kinks,
Sexual Harrassment,
Rites of Spring,
Colin Newman,
Crooked Eye,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Detroit Cobras,
Echospace,
Banda Bassotti,
Eddi Front,
Ultimate Spinach,
Black Bananas,
Visage,
The Grass Roots,
Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX, Davy DMX.
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.