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 Equatorial Guinea and from Portland.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Kenny Larkin 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 Erykah Badu. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Radio Birdman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Walker Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Nico,
Severed Heads,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mark Hollis,
Quantec,
Danielle Patucci,
Kayak,
T. Rex,
Barrington Levy,
The Walker Brothers,
Television,
Pagans,
F. McDonald,
Jacques Brel,
Banda Bassotti,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Lungfish,
Bob Dylan,
The Selecter,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Liliput,
Barry Ungar,
John Coltrane,
Jimmy McGriff,
Faraquet,
Sex Pistols,
Mandrill,
The Slackers,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Accadde A,
T.S.O.L.,
Robert Görl,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Neu!,
The Barracudas,
Amon Düül II,
The Slits,
Freddie Wadling,
Nation of Ulysses,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Public Enemy,
Y Pants,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ronnie Foster,
Angry Samoans,
Second Layer,
Nas,
Little Man,
the Slits,
Circle Jerks,
D'Angelo,
48th St. Collective,
Scan 7,
The Zeros,
Altered Images,
Joey Negro,
Man Parrish,
Andrew Hill,
Marc Almond,
Bill Near,
Rufus Thomas,
Duran Duran,
Warsaw,
Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys, Zero Boys.
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.