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 Ethiopia and from Manila.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Anthony Braxton to the rock 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 Deadbeat. All the underground hits.
All Mission of Burma tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The United States of America 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Evens record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
48th St. Collective,
Intrusion,
Maurizio,
Make Up,
Ituana,
Mandrill,
Spandau Ballet,
Wasted Youth,
Franke,
Bauhaus,
Marmalade,
In Retrospect,
Unrelated Segments,
The Beau Brummels,
Connie Case,
Kerri Chandler,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Funkadelic,
Simply Red,
Arthur Verocai,
Los Fastidios,
X-Ray Spex,
Sam Rivers,
Outsiders,
The Slackers,
Wolf Eyes,
T.S.O.L.,
The Toasters,
The Zeros,
Faraquet,
Marvin Gaye,
John Holt,
Urselle,
the Sonics,
The Buckinghams,
Parry Music,
The Detroit Cobras,
Grey Daturas,
Pagans,
Ten City,
John Cale,
The Five Americans,
F. McDonald,
Soul II Soul,
the Normal,
Sparks,
kango's stein massive,
Jeru the Damaja,
Television,
Duran Duran,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lucky Dragons,
Unwound,
Fat Boys,
Organ,
Soulsonic Force,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Flash Fearless,
Piero Umiliani,
Audionom,
Godley & Creme,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.