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 Sudan and from Manchester.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Lafayette Afro Rock Band to the electroclash 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 The Residents. All the underground hits.
All A Certain Ratio tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brick 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sonny Sharrock,
Ultimate Spinach,
Wire,
The Mummies,
Byron Stingily,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Black Moon,
Quadrant,
Visage,
Shuggie Otis,
The Victims,
PIL,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
T. Rex,
Jimmy McGriff,
H. Thieme,
Lalann,
The Pretty Things,
Soft Cell,
Nation of Ulysses,
Idris Muhammad,
Yusef Lateef,
The Remains,
Wolf Eyes,
The Seeds,
the Fania All-Stars,
Young Marble Giants,
Arab on Radar,
AZ,
Slave,
The Invisible,
Los Fastidios,
Fear,
Sarah Menescal,
Pantytec,
Motorama,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Matthew Halsall,
Von Mondo,
Eddi Front,
Sällskapet,
Tropical Tobacco,
Amon Düül,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Crooked Eye,
Hardrive,
The Durutti Column,
Goldenarms,
Pulsallama,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
MDC,
Pantaleimon,
The Buckinghams,
Dawn Penn,
Q and Not U,
Siglo XX,
Scion,
Yaz,
John Foxx,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
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.