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 Benin and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 rhodes 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 Germs to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Mad Mike. All the underground hits.
All The Buckinghams tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ituana record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sam Rivers,
Severed Heads,
cv313,
Reuben Wilson,
Minnie Riperton,
Liliput,
The Neon Judgement,
Spandau Ballet,
Bush Tetras,
Alice Coltrane,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Matthew Bourne,
Eden Ahbez,
Joy Division,
The Martian,
Swans,
Mark Hollis,
Dawn Penn,
Wally Richardson,
The Grass Roots,
Eddi Front,
Derrick May,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Johnny Osbourne,
Sällskapet,
Crooked Eye,
Sarah Menescal,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Crime,
The Toasters,
Camouflage,
Absolute Body Control,
Lou Christie,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Fall,
The Cure,
Isaac Hayes,
The Blackbyrds,
Wasted Youth,
10cc,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Gichy Dan,
Man Parrish,
Ken Boothe,
The Durutti Column,
Robert Hood,
The Residents,
Tommy Roe,
Quadrant,
Carl Craig,
H. Thieme,
The Angels of Light,
Nik Kershaw,
Max Romeo,
The Tremeloes,
Rekid,
Gang Starr,
John Lydon,
Roger Hodgson,
The Names, The Names, The Names, The Names.
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.