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 Colombia and from Lyon.
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 1963 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 Soft Boys practice in a loft in Cambridge.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 Ornette Coleman to the punk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Anthony Braxton. All the underground hits.
All Talk Talk tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Moss Icon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Carl Craig record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deepchord,
The Black Dice,
Lee Hazlewood,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Oneida,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
the Sonics,
Gichy Dan,
The Fugs,
Echospace,
Alice Coltrane,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Cramps,
Man Parrish,
The Last Poets,
Nick Fraelich,
Average White Band,
The Mummies,
Ronan,
Chrome,
Agitation Free,
Cecil Taylor,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Donald Byrd,
The Neon Judgement,
Lucky Dragons,
Man Eating Sloth,
Crispian St. Peters,
Theoretical Girls,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Electric Prunes,
Amon Düül II,
Yellowson,
Lungfish,
The Beau Brummels,
Infiniti,
The Invisible,
Grauzone,
Eve St. Jones,
Qualms,
DNA,
Boogie Down Productions,
Subhumans,
Oblivians,
Black Sheep,
Cheater Slicks,
Talk Talk,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
John Holt,
Interpol,
The Angels of Light,
The Mojo Men,
Negative Approach,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Warren Ellis,
The Cure,
JFA,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Q and Not U,
Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry, Todd Terry.
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.