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 East Timor and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Lewis show in Vancouver.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Pharoah Sanders to the punk 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 Average White Band. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Magazine record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Gabor Szabo,
Lalann,
Joey Negro,
Deadbeat,
Lakeside,
Nirvana,
Cybotron,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Cure,
Parry Music,
Talk Talk,
Mars,
Altered Images,
Eric B and Rakim,
Todd Rundgren,
Thee Headcoats,
Country Teasers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Barry Ungar,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sonic Youth,
Radiopuhelimet,
Flipper,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Star Department,
Loose Ends,
Easy Going,
Schoolly D,
CMW,
Mantronix,
Todd Terry,
The Gun Club,
The Cramps,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Dead C,
Barclay James Harvest,
The Birthday Party,
The Happenings,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Pretty Things,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Fad Gadget,
June of 44,
Babytalk,
DJ Sneak,
Junior Murvin,
Ten City,
The Associates,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Silicon Teens,
Underground Resistance,
Avey Tare,
Joe Finger,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bush Tetras,
Howard Jones,
a-ha,
Negative Approach,
Charles Mingus,
Half Japanese,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.