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 Belize and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 rhodes 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 Lonnie Liston Smith to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 The Fall. All the underground hits.
All Theoretical Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cal Tjader 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Barclay James Harvest record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Trumans Water,
Vainqueur,
ABC,
Scion,
Dual Sessions,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Soul II Soul,
The Vogues,
Isaac Hayes,
Graham Central Station,
The Divine Comedy,
the Human League,
The United States of America,
Minor Threat,
Sex Pistols,
Metal Thangz,
Delta 5,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
John Coltrane,
Grandmaster Flash,
Popol Vuh,
X-101,
X-Ray Spex,
Desert Stars,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Blossom Toes,
Chris Corsano,
Cabaret Voltaire,
H. Thieme,
John Foxx,
Connie Case,
Kerrie Biddell,
Anthony Braxton,
Soft Cell,
Wire,
Jeru the Damaja,
The Dirtbombs,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Sparks,
The J.B.'s,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Black Flag,
Girls At Our Best!,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Soulsonic Force,
Dawn Penn,
Q65,
B.T. Express,
Eden Ahbez,
DJ Style,
Bob Dylan,
Bootsy Collins,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Man Eating Sloth,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Drexciya,
Robert Wyatt,
Interpol,
The Cure,
K-Klass,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Kas Product,
Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish, Lungfish.
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.