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 Dominica and from Mexico City.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Curtis Mayfield to the dance kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon. All the underground hits.
All The J.B.'s tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Gang Dance 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agitation Free record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Gang Dance,
Eden Ahbez,
The Cramps,
Nils Olav,
Boredoms,
The Doors,
Frankie Knuckles,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Qualms,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Carl Craig,
Flamin' Groovies,
Tomorrow,
Simply Red,
Todd Rundgren,
Fatback Band,
The Monks,
Man Parrish,
Rod Modell,
Roy Ayers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Little Man,
Porter Ricks,
Erykah Badu,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
L. Decosne,
The Knickerbockers,
Surgeon,
The Misunderstood,
The Happenings,
Glambeats Corp.,
Q65,
Livin' Joy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Alice Coltrane,
Cluster,
The New Christs,
Inner City,
Lee Hazlewood,
Hot Snakes,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sugar Minott,
Model 500,
Roxy Music,
Lou Reed,
UT,
Avey Tare,
The Searchers,
MC5,
Quadrant,
Darondo,
Todd Terry,
Kaleidoscope,
Faust,
Pylon,
Deakin,
Black Sheep,
Radiopuhelimet,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Lizzy Mercier Descloux.
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.