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 Equatorial Guinea and from Tokyo.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Chris Corsano. All the underground hits.
All Mars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Underground Resistance 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
A Certain Ratio,
The Searchers,
Barrington Levy,
Metal Thangz,
The Selecter,
Mr. Review,
The American Breed,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Buckinghams,
Charles Mingus,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Big Daddy Kane,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Jawbox,
Tim Buckley,
Lyres,
Dennis Brown,
Supertramp,
Pantaleimon,
Lakeside,
Alton Ellis,
The Walker Brothers,
the Sonics,
Todd Rundgren,
John Cale,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Terry Callier,
Roxette,
Minny Pops,
Dead Boys,
Graham Central Station,
Dark Day,
Flash Fearless,
R.M.O.,
Scan 7,
The Saints,
Bronski Beat,
Goldenarms,
Robert Wyatt,
Mantronix,
The Angels of Light,
The Move,
Basic Channel,
Minnie Riperton,
Blancmange,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Neu!,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Thompson Twins,
Symarip,
Echospace,
Camouflage,
Susan Cadogan,
New Order,
the Bar-Kays,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Average White Band,
X-Ray Spex,
Rites of Spring,
Ice-T,
The Kinks,
Skarface,
Cluster, Cluster, Cluster, Cluster.
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.