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 Grenada and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 organ 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 Fluxion to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Kango’s Stein Massive. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young & Crazy Horse tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Flag record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Youth Brigade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
Gong,
Babytalk,
Metal Thangz,
Index,
Ossler,
Stereo Dub,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Scan 7,
Buzzcocks,
Piero Umiliani,
Con Funk Shun,
Big Daddy Kane,
Andrew Hill,
Public Enemy,
The Slackers,
Television Personalities,
Can,
Television,
Todd Rundgren,
Oneida,
Charles Mingus,
E-Dancer,
the Association,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Bobby Byrd,
Man Eating Sloth,
the Sonics,
Delta 5,
John Foxx,
Archie Shepp,
Mo-Dettes,
Icehouse,
Dawn Penn,
10cc,
Khruangbin,
Subhumans,
Eric Dolphy,
Warren Ellis,
Harry Pussy,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Jerry Gold Smith,
John Cale,
Joey Negro,
Lower 48,
Average White Band,
Main Source,
Agitation Free,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Masters at Work,
Frankie Knuckles,
Tropical Tobacco,
David Bowie,
Joy Division,
The Angels of Light,
Sun Ra,
Brass Construction,
Dual Sessions,
Technova,
Fad Gadget,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
L. Decosne,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell, Soft Cell.
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.