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 Bolivia and from Jakarta.
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 1965 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the theremin 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 Brick to the funk 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 Y Pants. All the underground hits.
All Marc Almond tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 sitar and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Stockholm Monsters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Siglo XX,
Arab on Radar,
Tropical Tobacco,
Black Bananas,
Graham Central Station,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sandy B,
The Saints,
The Electric Prunes,
Theoretical Girls,
Fela Kuti,
The United States of America,
Sam Rivers,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Icehouse,
Sugar Minott,
Arthur Verocai,
The Moleskins,
The Red Krayola,
The J.B.'s,
The Cure,
Jeru the Damaja,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Fortunes,
Motorama,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Pop Group,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Fuzztones,
Bronski Beat,
Malaria!,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Hoover,
Spoonie Gee,
Ossler,
Monks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Absolute Body Control,
Glambeats Corp.,
Glenn Branca,
Tubeway Army,
The Cramps,
Hardrive,
Minnie Riperton,
Big Daddy Kane,
Susan Cadogan,
Ice-T,
Von Mondo,
Kenny Larkin,
Vladislav Delay,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Charles Mingus,
Youth Brigade,
June of 44,
Soft Cell,
Yazoo,
Marmalade,
John Coltrane,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Sexual Harrassment,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.