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 Sri Lanka and from Columbus.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and New York.
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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 John Foxx to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jesper Dahlback. All the underground hits.
All Moby Grape tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobbi Humphrey 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Janne Schatter 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?
Nick Fraelich,
The Real Kids,
Idris Muhammad,
R.M.O.,
U.S. Maple,
Sound Behaviour,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Warren Ellis,
Lindisfarne,
Susan Cadogan,
Bronski Beat,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Kinks,
The Vogues,
Blossom Toes,
Gang Gang Dance,
Blancmange,
Quando Quango,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Crispy Ambulance,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Circle Jerks,
Scientists,
Clear Light,
Gang Starr,
Icehouse,
Cluster,
X-101,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Birthday Party,
Morten Harket,
The Wake,
Khruangbin,
Traffic Nightmare,
Reuben Wilson,
Pantaleimon,
Freddie Wadling,
Mission of Burma,
Skriet,
Pussy Galore,
Tears for Fears,
Dorothy Ashby,
Soul II Soul,
The Gories,
The Doobie Brothers,
Byron Stingily,
Godley & Creme,
Livin' Joy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Theoretical Girls,
Saccharine Trust,
Motorama,
B.T. Express,
Sarah Menescal,
Andrew Hill,
Massinfluence,
Roger Hodgson,
Jerry's Kids,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Dave Clark Five,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.