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 Mexico and from Delhi.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 James White and The Blacks to the grime kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 In Retrospect. All the underground hits.
All Dorothy Ashby tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Charles Mingus record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Bobby Byrd,
Eurythmics,
Wolf Eyes,
Magma,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Doobie Brothers,
Monolake,
Sun Ra,
Lucky Dragons,
Eddi Front,
Groovy Waters,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Banda Bassotti,
Ultimate Spinach,
Desert Stars,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Walker Brothers,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Dave Clark Five,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
Clear Light,
The Raincoats,
Blancmange,
Talk Talk,
Vladislav Delay,
8 Eyed Spy,
Wasted Youth,
The Buckinghams,
the Swans,
Simply Red,
Jerry's Kids,
Lungfish,
Mr. Review,
Fat Boys,
Angry Samoans,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Fad Gadget,
Underground Resistance,
The Real Kids,
Curtis Mayfield,
Motorama,
DJ Sneak,
La Düsseldorf,
The Detroit Cobras,
Minny Pops,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Litter,
Arthur Verocai,
Circle Jerks,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Little Man,
Mandrill,
Gil Scott Heron,
L. Decosne,
H. Thieme,
Warsaw,
Silicon Teens,
Rekid,
Patti Smith,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus, Charles Mingus.
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.