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 Zambia and from Toronto.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Tropical Tobacco to the grunge 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 Gang of Four. All the underground hits.
All Lightning Bolt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fad Gadget 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Detroit Cobras record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
Deadbeat,
Main Source,
The Fall,
H. Thieme,
Rapeman,
The Gories,
The Smiths,
James White and The Blacks,
Section 25,
Brass Construction,
Derrick May,
Hasil Adkins,
The Fugs,
Fugazi,
John Cale,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Gregory Isaacs,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Echospace,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Star Department,
Laurel Aitken,
Sandy B,
Mark Hollis,
FM Einheit,
Pulsallama,
MDC,
LL Cool J,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Cowsills,
The Sound,
New York Dolls,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Ituana,
Yusef Lateef,
Sister Nancy,
T.S.O.L.,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Black Dice,
Leonard Cohen,
Bobby Womack,
Soulsonic Force,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Roy Ayers,
Monks,
Grauzone,
Basic Channel,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Bar-Kays,
8 Eyed Spy,
Sixth Finger,
The Saints,
Byron Stingily,
Dark Day,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.