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 Slovenia 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Zapp practice in a loft in Hamilton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Bush Tetras to the grime 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 Bad Manners. All the underground hits.
All The Knickerbockers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Boredoms record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dead Boys,
Frankie Knuckles,
Joyce Sims,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Buzzcocks,
Sound Behaviour,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Nick Fraelich,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
B.T. Express,
New York Dolls,
Masters at Work,
The Offenders,
Urselle,
Ituana,
The Dirtbombs,
Todd Terry,
Johnny Clarke,
Lower 48,
the Association,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Jimmy McGriff,
Jeff Lynne,
Quando Quango,
Intrusion,
Marc Almond,
Bronski Beat,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Reuben Wilson,
The Martian,
Hardrive,
Eric B and Rakim,
Graham Central Station,
FM Einheit,
David Axelrod,
Gang Gang Dance,
One Last Wish,
The Fugs,
The Residents,
Infiniti,
The Pretty Things,
The Grass Roots,
Eve St. Jones,
Angry Samoans,
These Immortal Souls,
Qualms,
EPMD,
Harpers Bizarre,
Crooked Eye,
Aaron Thompson,
the Soft Cell,
Liliput,
Magazine,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
John Coltrane,
The Modern Lovers,
Ultra Naté,
Michelle Simonal,
Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur, Vainqueur.
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.