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 Malawi and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the organ 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 Magazine to the punk 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 Jesper Dahlbäck. All the underground hits.
All Lizzy Mercier Descloux tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Toasters 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Letta Mbulu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fat Boys,
Todd Terry,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Lalo Schifrin,
Alton Ellis,
ABBA,
Stereo Dub,
Y Pants,
Animal Collective,
John Foxx,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Khruangbin,
Chris Corsano,
Steve Hackett,
Sun City Girls,
Alice Coltrane,
Eric Dolphy,
ABC,
H. Thieme,
Bizarre Inc.,
Brothers Johnson,
Q and Not U,
Eddi Front,
Piero Umiliani,
Flamin' Groovies,
Dead Boys,
Dennis Brown,
Livin' Joy,
The Leaves,
Kerrie Biddell,
Porter Ricks,
Darondo,
Black Flag,
Matthew Halsall,
Terrestrial Tones,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Moebius,
Los Fastidios,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Throbbing Gristle,
48th St. Collective,
The Misunderstood,
Jeff Mills,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Tubeway Army,
The American Breed,
Smog,
The Cramps,
The Raincoats,
Quantec,
Soul II Soul,
Ornette Coleman,
Youth Brigade,
Max Romeo,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Walker Brothers,
Marcia Griffiths,
Mark Hollis,
Panda Bear,
Leonard Cohen,
Lakeside,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
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.