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 Iceland and from Delhi.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Bremen.
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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the güiro 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 L. Decosne to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Cure. All the underground hits.
All Buzzcocks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every It's A Beautiful Day 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Circle Jerks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Faust,
Harpers Bizarre,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Modern Lovers,
48th St. Collective,
Malaria!,
Hoover,
June of 44,
Johnny Clarke,
the Sonics,
New York Dolls,
EPMD,
Mark Hollis,
Drive Like Jehu,
Yaz,
Deepchord,
The Evens,
a-ha,
Roxy Music,
Tim Buckley,
Kas Product,
Fear,
Gang of Four,
Oneida,
Jacob Miller,
Danielle Patucci,
Nation of Ulysses,
Vladislav Delay,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Doors,
Warsaw,
Eurythmics,
Pierre Henry,
John Coltrane,
Kerrie Biddell,
Alison Limerick,
Moss Icon,
Amazonics,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ossler,
Fluxion,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Dave Clark Five,
David McCallum,
Goldenarms,
Judy Mowatt,
L. Decosne,
The Pop Group,
Blossom Toes,
Lindisfarne,
B.T. Express,
The Electric Prunes,
Nico,
The Slackers,
Absolute Body Control,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bobby Byrd,
The Toasters,
Morten Harket,
Bobby Sherman,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Gap Band,
Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango, Quando Quango.
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.