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 Gabon and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 Michael McDonald 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 Terror Squad Feat. Camron to the jazz 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 Quando Quango. All the underground hits.
All Be Bop Deluxe tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Suicide record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Saints record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Remains,
Barrington Levy,
Pantaleimon,
Donny Hathaway,
The Durutti Column,
Ronnie Foster,
Hardrive,
Pylon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Deakin,
Black Sheep,
Pere Ubu,
Public Image Ltd.,
Newcleus,
The Cowsills,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Blossom Toes,
The Trojans,
Scan 7,
Y Pants,
Anakelly,
Silicon Teens,
Traffic Nightmare,
Loose Ends,
Gregory Isaacs,
Fela Kuti,
The Fall,
Bang On A Can,
Toni Rubio,
Barclay James Harvest,
Slave,
X-Ray Spex,
Kevin Saunderson,
Au Pairs,
Black Pus,
H. Thieme,
Robert Hood,
Procol Harum,
Absolute Body Control,
U.S. Maple,
Eli Mardock,
Marine Girls,
Desert Stars,
Harpers Bizarre,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Fugs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Connie Case,
The Evens,
Pantytec,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Thompson Twins,
The Pretty Things,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Electric Prunes,
Jerry's Kids,
KRS-One,
New Order,
Dark Day,
The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies, The Mummies.
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.