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 Czech Republic and from Mumbai.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Spoonie Gee to the disco kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 The Jesus and Mary Chain. All the underground hits.
All Soulsonic Force tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Victims 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Y Pants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
Jerry's Kids,
New Age Steppers,
Tommy Roe,
Boz Scaggs,
Crime,
Soul Sonic Force,
Franke,
Lebanon Hanover,
Skaos,
DJ Sneak,
The Modern Lovers,
The Flesh Eaters,
Eurythmics,
Donald Byrd,
James White and The Blacks,
the Swans,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Smoke,
Marc Almond,
K-Klass,
Loose Ends,
Ken Boothe,
Simply Red,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Flamin' Groovies,
Freddie Wadling,
The Human League,
Black Flag,
Crooked Eye,
T.S.O.L.,
Chris & Cosey,
Nas,
the Association,
Desert Stars,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Music Machine,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Accadde A,
Faust,
Blancmange,
The Moody Blues,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Moby Grape,
Ludus,
Gong,
Arthur Verocai,
Fugazi,
MC5,
Wasted Youth,
Kas Product,
Technova,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Newcleus,
F. McDonald,
The Fugs,
Con Funk Shun,
The Slits,
Cybotron,
The Count Five,
Spoonie Gee,
John Lydon,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.