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 Belize and from Manila.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 linndrum 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 Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam to the crunk 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 Eric B and Rakim. All the underground hits.
All Circle Jerks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ten City 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slave,
Nik Kershaw,
Reagan Youth,
Swell Maps,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Roger Hodgson,
Mandrill,
Wasted Youth,
Ornette Coleman,
Vainqueur,
Excepter,
Franke,
The Sound,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Colin Newman,
Technova,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Mad Mike,
Spoonie Gee,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Deadbeat,
Darondo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Ultimate Spinach,
Lalann,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Martian,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sister Nancy,
Camouflage,
The Velvet Underground,
The Beau Brummels,
Flamin' Groovies,
Al Stewart,
Harry Pussy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Can,
X-101,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tom Boy,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
Crispian St. Peters,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Boz Scaggs,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mark Hollis,
PIL,
Curtis Mayfield,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Moody Blues,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sexual Harrassment,
Althea and Donna,
The Dirtbombs,
The Angels of Light,
Black Pus,
Animal Collective,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
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.