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 Burkina and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 The Neon Judgement to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Avey Tare. All the underground hits.
All Cabaret Voltaire tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Depeche Mode record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Gladiators record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Dark Day,
Derrick May,
Model 500,
Joey Negro,
Franke,
The Leaves,
Sister Nancy,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Walker Brothers,
Public Enemy,
Quadrant,
Susan Cadogan,
cv313,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Neu!,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Electric Prunes,
Japan,
Graham Central Station,
B.T. Express,
Drive Like Jehu,
Soft Cell,
Bill Wells,
Wasted Youth,
Flash Fearless,
The Kinks,
Metal Thangz,
Sly & The Family Stone,
E-Dancer,
The Modern Lovers,
The Durutti Column,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Toasters,
One Last Wish,
Tom Boy,
Can,
The Fugs,
Delta 5,
The Mojo Men,
The Invisible,
Sight & Sound,
DNA,
Infiniti,
F. McDonald,
Babytalk,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Echospace,
In Retrospect,
Lebanon Hanover,
Soft Machine,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Don Cherry,
Loose Ends,
The Alarm Clocks,
Letta Mbulu,
Radio Birdman,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Scott Walker,
Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band, Fatback Band.
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.