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 Kiribati and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 H. Thieme to the rap 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 Banda Bassotti. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kango’s Stein Massive record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Amon Düül,
The Searchers,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sam Rivers,
8 Eyed Spy,
The Moody Blues,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Saints,
Gang Green,
The Mummies,
Lightning Bolt,
Sonny Sharrock,
Technova,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Flag,
The Evens,
R.M.O.,
the Slits,
JFA,
U.S. Maple,
Suburban Knight,
Moby Grape,
Janne Schatter,
Procol Harum,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Desert Stars,
Fat Boys,
Model 500,
Piero Umiliani,
Sugar Minott,
Crash Course in Science,
Brass Construction,
Young Marble Giants,
Deepchord,
Niagra,
Yusef Lateef,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Jeff Lynne,
FM Einheit,
Yellowson,
The Zeros,
The Star Department,
Joe Finger,
In Retrospect,
UT,
Sexual Harrassment,
Spoonie Gee,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Half Japanese,
Gastr Del Sol,
Roxette,
Blancmange,
Gong,
David Axelrod,
Stiv Bators,
Bang On A Can,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
John Lydon,
Zero Boys,
H. Thieme,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Agitation Free,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.