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 Jordan and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Monochrome Set to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Derrick Morgan. All the underground hits.
All Bad Manners tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fifty Foot Hose record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Hot Snakes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mr. Review,
Au Pairs,
Desert Stars,
The Last Poets,
Basic Channel,
Khruangbin,
The Martian,
Popol Vuh,
David McCallum,
The Cowsills,
Niagra,
Brothers Johnson,
Barrington Levy,
The Slackers,
Siglo XX,
The Victims,
The Dead C,
The Red Krayola,
ABC,
The Leaves,
Scion,
Carl Craig,
Johnny Clarke,
Sister Nancy,
Saccharine Trust,
The Angels of Light,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Matthew Halsall,
Prince Buster,
The Moody Blues,
La Düsseldorf,
The Velvet Underground,
The Dave Clark Five,
Spandau Ballet,
E-Dancer,
John Foxx,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Lou Christie,
Alison Limerick,
Faraquet,
The Vogues,
Flamin' Groovies,
Sex Pistols,
Pantytec,
Pierre Henry,
The Durutti Column,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Fuzztones,
Ornette Coleman,
Piero Umiliani,
New Age Steppers,
The Neon Judgement,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The J.B.'s,
the Swans,
Graham Central Station,
FM Einheit,
Blossom Toes,
Organ,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Drive Like Jehu,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.