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 Haiti 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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 snare 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 Althea and Donna to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Charles Mingus record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
FM Einheit,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
This Heat,
ABBA,
Ultra Naté,
Byron Stingily,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Index,
Bobby Sherman,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Barry Ungar,
Monks,
Todd Terry,
Lee Hazlewood,
The Offenders,
AZ,
The Count Five,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gang Gang Dance,
The New Christs,
The Knickerbockers,
Reagan Youth,
Alice Coltrane,
the Soft Cell,
Nas,
Hasil Adkins,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sam Rivers,
Albert Ayler,
The Birthday Party,
Danielle Patucci,
Eric B and Rakim,
Mark Hollis,
Sarah Menescal,
Sixth Finger,
The Gun Club,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Y Pants,
Black Moon,
Dark Day,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Grey Daturas,
Henry Cow,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
David Bowie,
Aswad,
Electric Prunes,
Trumans Water,
Pussy Galore,
The Real Kids,
Popol Vuh,
Hashim,
Bob Dylan,
Zero Boys,
Vladislav Delay,
Fat Boys,
Eric Copeland,
The Red Krayola,
Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet, Sällskapet.
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.