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 Kyrgyzstan and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 sitar 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 The Cowsills to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Juan Atkins. All the underground hits.
All Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Lydon 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Martian,
Big Daddy Kane,
Monks,
Harmonia,
Juan Atkins,
Y Pants,
Darondo,
T. Rex,
Derrick Morgan,
Absolute Body Control,
Porter Ricks,
Smog,
Bootsy Collins,
Charles Mingus,
the Human League,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Dark Day,
Lungfish,
Andrew Hill,
Accadde A,
Yazoo,
James White and The Blacks,
Erasure,
Cymande,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Bobby Womack,
The Stooges,
Tomorrow,
Blossom Toes,
L. Decosne,
Underground Resistance,
John Holt,
Whodini,
Essential Logic,
Public Image Ltd.,
Radio Birdman,
cv313,
Ralphi Rosario,
Amon Düül II,
Wolf Eyes,
Wasted Youth,
Los Fastidios,
Au Pairs,
The Five Americans,
Desert Stars,
Hardrive,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Wings,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Pulsallama,
Danielle Patucci,
ABC,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Todd Terry,
H. Thieme,
Roger Hodgson,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Slackers,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Standells,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Icehouse,
Gil Scott Heron,
Cybotron,
Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson, Aaron Thompson.
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.