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 Dominican Republic and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 It's A Beautiful Day 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 Sound Behaviour. All the underground hits.
All Public Enemy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lou Reed 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Wally Richardson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Reuben Wilson,
Tears for Fears,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Beau Brummels,
Vainqueur,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Flamin' Groovies,
Fugazi,
Boredoms,
Kerri Chandler,
Crooked Eye,
The Young Rascals,
Stereo Dub,
OOIOO,
Alison Limerick,
U.S. Maple,
Excepter,
Skarface,
Black Flag,
Hoover,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Amon Düül,
Bronski Beat,
Jerry's Kids,
Sandy B,
The Busters,
Jeru the Damaja,
Donald Byrd,
Ralphi Rosario,
Hashim,
Flipper,
Ken Boothe,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Sister Nancy,
Josef K,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Ice-T,
Massinfluence,
Easy Going,
Kenny Larkin,
Fear,
Joe Finger,
Howard Jones,
CMW,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lee Hazlewood,
Nik Kershaw,
Cheater Slicks,
Freddie Wadling,
Shoche,
Marc Almond,
Scott Walker,
Liliput,
Tubeway Army,
Severed Heads,
The Fortunes,
Grandmaster Flash,
Thee Headcoats,
David Axelrod,
The Toasters,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.