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 Kazakhstan and from Woodstock.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Barracudas 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 Quantec. All the underground hits.
All EPMD tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Cramps record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
Sex Pistols,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Bill Wells,
James White and The Blacks,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Sound Behaviour,
Matthew Bourne,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Angry Samoans,
Intrusion,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
the Human League,
The Electric Prunes,
Rites of Spring,
Black Pus,
The Young Rascals,
Wasted Youth,
Roxette,
The Searchers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Ralphi Rosario,
Gabor Szabo,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Spoonie Gee,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Detroit Cobras,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Youth Brigade,
The Smoke,
Kenny Larkin,
Wally Richardson,
Ossler,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Move,
Camouflage,
Matthew Halsall,
Man Parrish,
Gang Starr,
Robert Görl,
Eddi Front,
Byron Stingily,
Wolf Eyes,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Andrew Hill,
Minnie Riperton,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Dorothy Ashby,
Roger Hodgson,
Connie Case,
The Last Poets,
Joy Division,
DNA,
EPMD,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The J.B.'s,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Accadde A,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Man Eating Sloth,
Amon Düül,
X-Ray Spex,
Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope, Kaleidoscope.
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.