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 Niger and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Wally Richardson to the grime 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 Trumans Water. All the underground hits.
All Livin' Joy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brothers Johnson 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Vogues record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Heaven 17,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Quando Quango,
Gerry Rafferty,
Sällskapet,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Matthew Bourne,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Wolf Eyes,
Adolescents,
Kenny Larkin,
Grey Daturas,
Funkadelic,
The Music Machine,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
One Last Wish,
R.M.O.,
Kerri Chandler,
The Selecter,
Y Pants,
Jacques Brel,
Bobby Byrd,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Tubeway Army,
Neil Young,
The Mummies,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bronski Beat,
Arthur Verocai,
Peter & Gordon,
Youth Brigade,
Aloha Tigers,
Roxette,
Electric Prunes,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Angry Samoans,
Faust,
Fluxion,
Harpers Bizarre,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Maurizio,
Joey Negro,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Scan 7,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Bush Tetras,
Outsiders,
Zapp,
The Fortunes,
Das Ding,
Boredoms,
Amon Düül II,
Magazine,
Organ,
Babytalk,
Spandau Ballet,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Cecil Taylor,
Moby Grape,
Sonic Youth,
Q and Not U,
Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian, Brand Nubian.
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.