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 Russia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Beijing and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Icehouse to the crunk 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 X-Ray Spex. All the underground hits.
All Major Organ And The Adding Machine tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonic Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Goldenarms,
Eric B and Rakim,
Danielle Patucci,
Slave,
Sällskapet,
Tres Demented,
Gong,
The Dead C,
Alton Ellis,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
La Düsseldorf,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Royal Trux,
Audionom,
Reagan Youth,
China Crisis,
Kerri Chandler,
Rekid,
Sandy B,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Blues Magoos,
The Saints,
The Fugs,
Terrestrial Tones,
Davy DMX,
Aural Exciters,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Deadbeat,
Big Daddy Kane,
JFA,
Minor Threat,
The Litter,
Electric Prunes,
Maleditus Sound,
The Cramps,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Jacques Brel,
New Order,
Moebius,
Yellowson,
Echospace,
Delta 5,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Loose Ends,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Slick Rick,
The Beau Brummels,
Wire,
Robert Görl,
Pantaleimon,
Sparks,
Agitation Free,
Flipper,
Moby Grape,
The Electric Prunes,
Ten City,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Franke, Franke, Franke, Franke.
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.