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 Honduras and from Shanghai.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Robert Görl to the rap kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Wire. All the underground hits.
All The Motions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cybotron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tears for Fears record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Beasts of Bourbon,
Wally Richardson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Don Cherry,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Pet Shop Boys,
Alton Ellis,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Pylon,
Pantaleimon,
Kerri Chandler,
Organ,
Terrestrial Tones,
Excepter,
The Motions,
Todd Terry,
Mars,
Heaven 17,
Connie Case,
Soulsonic Force,
The Residents,
Television,
The American Breed,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Monks,
The Misunderstood,
Ultra Naté,
The Trojans,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Hardrive,
Andrew Hill,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Glambeats Corp.,
Delta 5,
Jawbox,
The Fugs,
Moby Grape,
Sexual Harrassment,
Avey Tare,
Pussy Galore,
Al Stewart,
David Axelrod,
Nation of Ulysses,
Jesper Dahlback,
Sun City Girls,
Laurel Aitken,
Brothers Johnson,
Black Pus,
Toni Rubio,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
David McCallum,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
The Names,
Marcia Griffiths,
Deakin,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jacob Miller,
Agitation Free,
Sex Pistols,
Cymande,
Yaz,
Mark Hollis,
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.