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 Slovakia and from Cairo.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ 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 Simply Red to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Stetsasonic. All the underground hits.
All Brothers Johnson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Litter 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Clarke,
Vladislav Delay,
Sexual Harrassment,
Frankie Knuckles,
Chrome,
Outsiders,
Yusef Lateef,
Jacques Brel,
Japan,
cv313,
Lalann,
Con Funk Shun,
Siglo XX,
Slick Rick,
Barry Ungar,
The Martian,
Crime,
Rosa Yemen,
The United States of America,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Suicide,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sight & Sound,
Echospace,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Tomorrow,
Fat Boys,
In Retrospect,
Radiopuhelimet,
Amazonics,
Matthew Halsall,
Quando Quango,
One Last Wish,
Grauzone,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Gabor Szabo,
Crispy Ambulance,
Goldenarms,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Maurizio,
James Chance & The Contortions,
World's Most,
the Human League,
The Misunderstood,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Infiniti,
Cybotron,
Skaos,
X-Ray Spex,
Tom Boy,
New York Dolls,
The Blues Magoos,
Skriet,
Make Up,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Roy Ayers,
Scientists,
Kerrie Biddell,
The American Breed,
Sandy B,
Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin, Khruangbin.
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.