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 Yemen and from Manchester.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the marimba 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 The Cosmic Jokers to the jazz kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultimate Spinach 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Magazine,
Letta Mbulu,
Aswad,
Tom Boy,
Kerri Chandler,
The Happenings,
Aloha Tigers,
The Music Machine,
Maleditus Sound,
Slick Rick,
Arcadia,
Tommy Roe,
Mandrill,
Pantaleimon,
Stockholm Monsters,
Angry Samoans,
Aaron Thompson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Dennis Brown,
The Birthday Party,
Blossom Toes,
The Real Kids,
Pagans,
The Toasters,
Bobby Womack,
John Cale,
Erykah Badu,
Subhumans,
Scratch Acid,
Quantec,
Electric Light Orchestra,
K-Klass,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Sound Behaviour,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Evens,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Banda Bassotti,
Marcia Griffiths,
Glenn Branca,
Josef K,
The Black Dice,
Soft Cell,
The United States of America,
Blake Baxter,
Jacob Miller,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Bobby Byrd,
Marc Almond,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Dead C,
The Modern Lovers,
Young Marble Giants,
The J.B.'s,
This Heat,
Ken Boothe,
Prince Buster,
The Durutti Column,
Crooked Eye,
Crime,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.