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 Macedonia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Neu! show in Düsseldorf.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Copenhagen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 June of 44 to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All Unwound tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Certain Ratio record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a snare 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 synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
The Neon Judgement,
Supertramp,
Albert Ayler,
The Real Kids,
Cecil Taylor,
Average White Band,
the Swans,
Pulsallama,
Anthony Braxton,
Absolute Body Control,
L. Decosne,
Rekid,
Kerrie Biddell,
Scion,
B.T. Express,
Bush Tetras,
New Age Steppers,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
OOIOO,
X-Ray Spex,
Ultravox,
Youth Brigade,
8 Eyed Spy,
Nico,
Crispy Ambulance,
Bobby Byrd,
Inner City,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Litter,
Whodini,
Max Romeo,
Jawbox,
the Soft Cell,
The Last Poets,
Rakim,
Charles Mingus,
Johnny Clarke,
Prince Buster,
Barrington Levy,
New York Dolls,
Sällskapet,
The Remains,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
The Blackbyrds,
Harmonia,
Yellowson,
Ralphi Rosario,
The Count Five,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Bang On A Can,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Con Funk Shun,
Gang Starr,
Talk Talk,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
PIL,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.