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 Venezuela and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Zero Boys to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Monks. All the underground hits.
All Notorious Big And Bone Thugs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a DJ Sneak record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Magazine,
Dennis Brown,
Lyres,
Crime,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
the Sonics,
Theoretical Girls,
Laurel Aitken,
Monks,
Cal Tjader,
One Last Wish,
Gichy Dan,
T. Rex,
Boz Scaggs,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Fugazi,
Marvin Gaye,
The Mummies,
Sugar Minott,
The Beau Brummels,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Chris & Cosey,
Procol Harum,
The Saints,
Mary Jane Girls,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Funkadelic,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Gap Band,
Scion,
Tubeway Army,
Roger Hodgson,
Silicon Teens,
Aloha Tigers,
Wings,
The Stooges,
The Golliwogs,
Bauhaus,
Delon & Dalcan,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
CMW,
Accadde A,
David Axelrod,
James White and The Blacks,
Glenn Branca,
Groovy Waters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Funky Four + One,
Infiniti,
The Divine Comedy,
Junior Murvin,
Reagan Youth,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Man Parrish,
U.S. Maple,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Wake,
Fluxion,
John Lydon,
Neil Young,
The Fuzztones,
Deakin, Deakin, Deakin, Deakin.
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.