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 Mongolia and from Manchester.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Taipei.
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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 Marine Girls to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Fire Engines. All the underground hits.
All R.M.O. tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Moody Blues,
Second Layer,
The Fortunes,
Silicon Teens,
Groovy Waters,
Minny Pops,
Letta Mbulu,
The Monks,
The Vogues,
Flash Fearless,
Glambeats Corp.,
Minutemen,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Ice-T,
Hardrive,
Mandrill,
Arab on Radar,
Reuben Wilson,
Vladislav Delay,
Albert Ayler,
Stetsasonic,
Buzzcocks,
The Electric Prunes,
Eric Copeland,
the Fania All-Stars,
John Holt,
Blancmange,
Tears for Fears,
The United States of America,
Lyres,
Urselle,
Sparks,
Unrelated Segments,
The Divine Comedy,
Ronnie Foster,
Gong,
Whodini,
The Doobie Brothers,
Radiopuhelimet,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sex Pistols,
Motorama,
Jimmy McGriff,
Surgeon,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Eric Dolphy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Evens,
Barry Ungar,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Cluster,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Mission of Burma,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Birthday Party,
Matthew Bourne,
Excepter,
Marc Almond,
F. McDonald,
Eve St. Jones,
Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood, Robert Hood.
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.