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 Sweden and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the organ 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 Techniques to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Charles Mingus. All the underground hits.
All Simply Red tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Swell Maps 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
The Fugs,
Silicon Teens,
Little Man,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Last Poets,
Angry Samoans,
Althea and Donna,
The Star Department,
The Happenings,
The Five Americans,
The Divine Comedy,
The Cramps,
Pet Shop Boys,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Radiohead,
The Names,
The Leaves,
Drexciya,
X-101,
Easy Going,
The Fall,
Bush Tetras,
Aural Exciters,
Shuggie Otis,
Lalann,
La Düsseldorf,
Mission of Burma,
Kool Moe Dee,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Oneida,
Funkadelic,
Derrick Morgan,
Goldenarms,
Pulsallama,
Metal Thangz,
The Velvet Underground,
The Motions,
Moebius,
Quantec,
Eden Ahbez,
Pere Ubu,
Rotary Connection,
Vainqueur,
Theoretical Girls,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
R.M.O.,
John Coltrane,
The Zeros,
Los Fastidios,
Faust,
Moss Icon,
Altered Images,
Adolescents,
In Retrospect,
Funky Four + One,
Unwound,
Sugar Minott,
Nirvana,
John Cale, John Cale, John Cale, John Cale.
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.