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 Macedonia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Johannesburg.
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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Michelle Simonal 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All The Gladiators tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Louis and Bebe Barron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
John Lydon,
Severed Heads,
The Names,
Janne Schatter,
The Count Five,
Robert Wyatt,
The Golliwogs,
Matthew Halsall,
Darondo,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Move,
Urselle,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Roxy Music,
Jacques Brel,
Camberwell Now,
Fela Kuti,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Nik Kershaw,
Skriet,
Agent Orange,
Tommy Roe,
June of 44,
China Crisis,
Laurel Aitken,
The Music Machine,
David McCallum,
Depeche Mode,
T. Rex,
Blake Baxter,
Freddie Wadling,
Radio Birdman,
Groovy Waters,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Residents,
FM Einheit,
Jeff Mills,
Roy Ayers,
Symarip,
The Modern Lovers,
The Leaves,
Sexual Harrassment,
kango's stein massive,
Slick Rick,
Sam Rivers,
La Düsseldorf,
MC5,
Arthur Verocai,
Royal Trux,
Josef K,
OOIOO,
DNA,
Boz Scaggs,
David Bowie,
Byron Stingily,
Quadrant,
Crash Course in Science,
Lou Reed,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Michelle Simonal,
Hot Snakes,
The Cramps,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco, Tropical Tobacco.
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.