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 India and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Techniques to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Alphaville. All the underground hits.
All Man Parrish tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every JFA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 linndrum and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Grass Roots record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool Moe Dee,
David McCallum,
Jeff Mills,
The Doobie Brothers,
Outsiders,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bobby Sherman,
Panda Bear,
Marine Girls,
Radio Birdman,
Lucky Dragons,
Fela Kuti,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Motions,
This Heat,
Crispian St. Peters,
Young Marble Giants,
Roxy Music,
Roxette,
Jawbox,
The Wake,
Hashim,
Country Teasers,
Nik Kershaw,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Eddi Front,
Bauhaus,
Pantaleimon,
Interpol,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Blancmange,
ABC,
The Moody Blues,
the Normal,
Marvin Gaye,
CMW,
Lightning Bolt,
Half Japanese,
The Dead C,
Scientists,
Tom Boy,
Bootsy Collins,
Electric Prunes,
Nation of Ulysses,
Lyres,
Vladislav Delay,
DNA,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Frankie Knuckles,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Desert Stars,
Eve St. Jones,
The Standells,
John Lydon,
48th St. Collective,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Babytalk,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Laurel Aitken,
The Knickerbockers,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.