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 Nepal 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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Deadbeat to the rap kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Country Teasers. All the underground hits.
All Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grey Daturas 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Knickerbockers 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?
Dawn Penn,
The Last Poets,
Matthew Halsall,
The Sound,
Scientists,
Wire,
The Music Machine,
Vainqueur,
The Cramps,
the Fania All-Stars,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Gil Scott Heron,
Don Cherry,
Nirvana,
Radio Birdman,
Faraquet,
Delon & Dalcan,
Darondo,
ABBA,
Television Personalities,
The Detroit Cobras,
In Retrospect,
Crispy Ambulance,
Mantronix,
Brothers Johnson,
Quantec,
Prince Buster,
Nas,
The Happenings,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Agitation Free,
The Offenders,
Ohio Players,
Todd Rundgren,
The Monks,
Derrick Morgan,
Ultravox,
Crime,
The New Christs,
David McCallum,
Ultimate Spinach,
Camouflage,
X-Ray Spex,
The Pretty Things,
The Electric Prunes,
The Busters,
Peter and Kerry,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tears for Fears,
Sound Behaviour,
Pulsallama,
the Slits,
Byron Stingily,
Thee Headcoats,
Siglo XX,
Slave,
Simply Red,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Spoonie Gee,
The Searchers,
Ken Boothe,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.