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 Guatemala and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 808 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 Red Krayola to the techno 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 Neil Young & Crazy Horse. All the underground hits.
All Banda Bassotti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Men They Couldn't Hang record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Cheater Slicks,
Dorothy Ashby,
The Litter,
Mr. Review,
JFA,
Harry Pussy,
Black Flag,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Brick,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Morten Harket,
Spandau Ballet,
John Coltrane,
Hashim,
Sound Behaviour,
Monks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Crooked Eye,
Easy Going,
Nation of Ulysses,
Barry Ungar,
Piero Umiliani,
Nik Kershaw,
Ice-T,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Rapeman,
Smog,
Stereo Dub,
Archie Shepp,
D'Angelo,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Newcleus,
Deepchord,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Girls At Our Best!,
Panda Bear,
Public Enemy,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
One Last Wish,
The Happenings,
Rhythm & Sound,
Y Pants,
the Slits,
H. Thieme,
Howard Jones,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Vogues,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
X-102,
Pussy Galore,
K-Klass,
Wings,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Drive Like Jehu,
Erykah Badu,
Mantronix,
The Buckinghams,
Matthew Bourne,
Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments, Unrelated Segments.
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.