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 Bulgaria and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Negative Approach. All the underground hits.
All Magazine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Pop Group record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wasted Youth record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fugazi,
ABBA,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
D'Angelo,
Television Personalities,
The Slits,
Steve Hackett,
Rekid,
Delon & Dalcan,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Young Rascals,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Parry Music,
Graham Central Station,
the Fania All-Stars,
Kerri Chandler,
The Tremeloes,
China Crisis,
Tommy Roe,
Joy Division,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Pulsallama,
Severed Heads,
Camouflage,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Thompson Twins,
Masters at Work,
Hoover,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
June Days,
F. McDonald,
Dead Boys,
The Black Dice,
The Vogues,
Henry Cow,
Byron Stingily,
The Gladiators,
Connie Case,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Crooked Eye,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Boz Scaggs,
Loose Ends,
Jeff Lynne,
Don Cherry,
Depeche Mode,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Alarm Clocks,
Scott Walker,
New Age Steppers,
Minor Threat,
JFA,
Wally Richardson,
Panda Bear,
Main Source,
Lungfish,
Second Layer,
Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape, Moby Grape.
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.