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 Nauru and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1968 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the rhodes 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 B.T. Express to the rap 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 DJ Style. All the underground hits.
All Soft Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Blues Magoos record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
Stetsasonic,
A Certain Ratio,
Angry Samoans,
Cluster,
MC5,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Jacques Brel,
Severed Heads,
Drive Like Jehu,
Lungfish,
10cc,
Black Flag,
The Invisible,
Surgeon,
Porter Ricks,
Godley & Creme,
Talk Talk,
Hasil Adkins,
Audionom,
The Durutti Column,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Black Pus,
E-Dancer,
The Cowsills,
Royal Trux,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
James White and The Blacks,
Boredoms,
Steve Hackett,
Barry Ungar,
The Zeros,
Hot Snakes,
CMW,
The Smiths,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Black Moon,
the Germs,
Sun City Girls,
Bronski Beat,
Quadrant,
R.M.O.,
The Moody Blues,
Wings,
Gang Starr,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
a-ha,
Tres Demented,
Eli Mardock,
Roxette,
Terry Callier,
Altered Images,
Juan Atkins,
JFA,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Wally Richardson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Warren Ellis,
The Skatalites,
Cymande,
F. McDonald,
Graham Central Station,
Inner City, Inner City, Inner City, Inner City.
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.