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 Nepal and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Laurel Aitken to the grunge kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Flamin' Groovies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Todd Terry 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Slits record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Sam Rivers,
Crispian St. Peters,
Icehouse,
Eric Copeland,
Harry Pussy,
The Dead C,
Al Stewart,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Kayak,
Joensuu 1685,
The Wake,
Neil Young,
Black Sheep,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Aswad,
Ultimate Spinach,
Sugar Minott,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Alice Coltrane,
Drive Like Jehu,
AZ,
The Cowsills,
Joyce Sims,
The Gladiators,
the Germs,
Au Pairs,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Quadrant,
The Cure,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Average White Band,
Easy Going,
Ralphi Rosario,
These Immortal Souls,
Jeru the Damaja,
FM Einheit,
Stetsasonic,
Gil Scott Heron,
Faraquet,
Howard Jones,
The Techniques,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Spandau Ballet,
The Birthday Party,
Depeche Mode,
Con Funk Shun,
Todd Rundgren,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Blake Baxter,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Ronnie Foster,
JFA,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Arthur Verocai,
Franke,
Alison Limerick,
The Remains, The Remains, The Remains, The Remains.
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.