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 Turkmenistan and from Edmonton.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the guitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Matthew Bourne to the grunge 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 Knickerbockers. All the underground hits.
All Joe Finger tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Cale,
The Vogues,
X-102,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Flamin' Groovies,
Gil Scott Heron,
Mandrill,
Barbara Tucker,
Grandmaster Flash,
Yaz,
Cecil Taylor,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Durutti Column,
Hashim,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Stereo Dub,
F. McDonald,
The Toasters,
Camberwell Now,
Slave,
New York Dolls,
The Count Five,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Agitation Free,
Pantaleimon,
The Star Department,
The Fugs,
Main Source,
John Coltrane,
Nik Kershaw,
Magma,
JFA,
the Swans,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Vladislav Delay,
Mantronix,
Kerrie Biddell,
Carl Craig,
Agent Orange,
Max Romeo,
Bronski Beat,
the Bar-Kays,
Blancmange,
H. Thieme,
Sunsets and Hearts,
the Slits,
8 Eyed Spy,
Alice Coltrane,
Tres Demented,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Move,
Bill Near,
Bad Manners,
Angry Samoans,
Alison Limerick,
Can,
Sister Nancy,
Unrelated Segments,
Duran Duran,
Maurizio,
Blossom Toes,
Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four, Gang of Four.
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.