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 Poland and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Derrick May to the electroclash kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Ajijia Myrayebe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Swans,
Cecil Taylor,
Terrestrial Tones,
the Soft Cell,
Ossler,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Boredoms,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Qualms,
Judy Mowatt,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Sonics,
Oneida,
Iggy Pop,
Rites of Spring,
Unwound,
Popol Vuh,
Robert Görl,
Zero Boys,
Bauhaus,
Symarip,
Ronan,
Brothers Johnson,
Sam Rivers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Davy DMX,
Brick,
The Evens,
Harry Pussy,
The Happenings,
Little Man,
Sound Behaviour,
KRS-One,
The Grass Roots,
MDC,
The Seeds,
Au Pairs,
The Beau Brummels,
Gang Starr,
Easy Going,
The Velvet Underground,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Spandau Ballet,
Harpers Bizarre,
The Dead C,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Mission of Burma,
The Remains,
Gil Scott Heron,
Barrington Levy,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Stockholm Monsters,
Donald Byrd,
Stetsasonic,
Joe Smooth,
Infiniti,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
a-ha, a-ha, a-ha, a-ha.
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.