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 Croatia and from Glasgow.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the crunk 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 Con Funk Shun. All the underground hits.
All Amon Düül tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Fortunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tomorrow record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marc Almond,
Harry Pussy,
Hot Snakes,
Livin' Joy,
Arthur Verocai,
Gastr Del Sol,
Lindisfarne,
Johnny Osbourne,
Depeche Mode,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
June Days,
Ossler,
Babytalk,
The Dead C,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Jacob Miller,
The Neon Judgement,
Patti Smith,
The Mojo Men,
Ice-T,
Jacques Brel,
The Cure,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Shuggie Otis,
Skaos,
Isaac Hayes,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sonic Youth,
Goldenarms,
Lungfish,
Panda Bear,
Pylon,
The Doors,
Aural Exciters,
Con Funk Shun,
The Leaves,
The Beau Brummels,
The Fuzztones,
The Misunderstood,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Angels of Light,
Oneida,
Shoche,
The Victims,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Erykah Badu,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Zeros,
Alphaville,
Big Daddy Kane,
The Flesh Eaters,
Popol Vuh,
Crime,
R.M.O.,
The Gun Club,
Sällskapet,
Dennis Brown,
Zapp,
Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins, Bootsy Collins.
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.