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 Cairo.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
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 The Martian to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Frankie Knuckles. All the underground hits.
All Joy Division tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Eating Sloth,
Cal Tjader,
Nick Fraelich,
Albert Ayler,
Kenny Larkin,
E-Dancer,
Flipper,
Minny Pops,
The Slackers,
Mandrill,
New Age Steppers,
Clear Light,
Matthew Bourne,
Second Layer,
Bobby Byrd,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
U.S. Maple,
Bush Tetras,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Monochrome Set,
Blancmange,
Maurizio,
Deadbeat,
Urselle,
Severed Heads,
Spandau Ballet,
Tim Buckley,
The Doors,
Panda Bear,
The Walker Brothers,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ken Boothe,
Franke,
Hoover,
Piero Umiliani,
Byron Stingily,
Dead Boys,
Simply Red,
The Pretty Things,
Amon Düül,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
PIL,
Monolake,
Japan,
The Dead C,
Accadde A,
Underground Resistance,
Metal Thangz,
Con Funk Shun,
Talk Talk,
Ralphi Rosario,
L. Decosne,
Tres Demented,
Aaron Thompson,
H. Thieme,
Deepchord,
The Victims,
Graham Central Station,
Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson, Marshall Jefferson.
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.