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 Taiwan 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All The Detroit Cobras tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric Dolphy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
Arthur Verocai,
Blake Baxter,
the Normal,
Fad Gadget,
Terry Callier,
Panda Bear,
Andrew Hill,
Eve St. Jones,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Robert Wyatt,
Procol Harum,
Agent Orange,
Cheater Slicks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Parry Music,
The Associates,
The American Breed,
Wings,
Anakelly,
Joe Finger,
Ronnie Foster,
The Moody Blues,
Wally Richardson,
The Leaves,
Fela Kuti,
Black Sheep,
The Misunderstood,
Icehouse,
Maleditus Sound,
The Busters,
Deadbeat,
F. McDonald,
The Modern Lovers,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tommy Roe,
Sister Nancy,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Juan Atkins,
Suburban Knight,
The Fuzztones,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Danielle Patucci,
Pole,
Talk Talk,
Scientists,
The Vogues,
Monks,
FM Einheit,
Bobby Sherman,
Warren Ellis,
Susan Cadogan,
Gang of Four,
MDC,
The Litter,
These Immortal Souls,
Harmonia,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Durutti Column,
Crispian St. Peters,
Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller, Jacob Miller.
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.