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 Morocco and from Hong Kong.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Lille.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 James White and The Blacks to the rock 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 The Count Five. All the underground hits.
All Boredoms tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yaz 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABBA record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Neu!,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
DNA,
kango's stein massive,
Brass Construction,
Soul Sonic Force,
Soft Machine,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Lebanon Hanover,
Lou Reed,
Danielle Patucci,
Archie Shepp,
Bad Manners,
Jerry's Kids,
Connie Case,
The Wake,
The Grass Roots,
Duran Duran,
Susan Cadogan,
Anthony Braxton,
Derrick May,
Thompson Twins,
Radiopuhelimet,
Iggy Pop,
the Bar-Kays,
The Golliwogs,
Chris Corsano,
Suburban Knight,
Unwound,
Malaria!,
Parry Music,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Joe Smooth,
Oblivians,
Rites of Spring,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Underground Resistance,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Visage,
The Neon Judgement,
Man Eating Sloth,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Funkadelic,
Brothers Johnson,
Kaleidoscope,
Eric Copeland,
Byron Stingily,
Monolake,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Brand Nubian,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
The Pretty Things,
Sight & Sound,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Amon Düül,
The Star Department,
the Sonics,
The Beau Brummels,
Metal Thangz,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson, Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson.
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.