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 Zimbabwe and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Intrusion to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 The Walker Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Young Marble Giants tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Oblivians record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Electric Light Orchestra record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aural Exciters,
Bush Tetras,
Robert Görl,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Fire Engines,
The Human League,
Rod Modell,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Darondo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Fortunes,
Fugazi,
Crash Course in Science,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Drexciya,
Parry Music,
The Cure,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Inner City,
Faraquet,
Toni Rubio,
Icehouse,
Gerry Rafferty,
Popol Vuh,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
L. Decosne,
X-Ray Spex,
June Days,
Loose Ends,
FM Einheit,
Connie Case,
Joe Smooth,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Peter & Gordon,
Average White Band,
Jandek,
Sixth Finger,
Easy Going,
Bill Wells,
Isaac Hayes,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nirvana,
Unwound,
Trumans Water,
Blancmange,
Thompson Twins,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lucky Dragons,
Avey Tare,
T. Rex,
Oneida,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Hoover,
The Leaves,
Jawbox,
Porter Ricks,
Mission of Burma,
Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps, Swell Maps.
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.