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 Philippines and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1968 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 harpsichord 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 Nirvana to the disco kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jesper Dahlbäck 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Prince Buster record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Idris Muhammad,
Oblivians,
Rapeman,
Alice Coltrane,
Liliput,
Franke,
Subhumans,
Colin Newman,
Outsiders,
Warren Ellis,
Avey Tare,
Soft Cell,
Goldenarms,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Pere Ubu,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Harpers Bizarre,
Urselle,
Scan 7,
Laurel Aitken,
The J.B.'s,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Modern Lovers,
Joey Negro,
Kerrie Biddell,
Tears for Fears,
Skriet,
Sam Rivers,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Fire Engines,
The United States of America,
Severed Heads,
Gastr Del Sol,
Funky Four + One,
Interpol,
Barry Ungar,
Cecil Taylor,
The Divine Comedy,
Black Moon,
The Move,
Sällskapet,
Eve St. Jones,
Charles Mingus,
Yaz,
Average White Band,
The Cure,
Don Cherry,
Robert Hood,
Althea and Donna,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Shadows of Knight,
Aaron Thompson,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Model 500,
Marshall Jefferson,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Bang On A Can,
Stereo Dub,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Erasure,
Fatback Band,
These Immortal Souls,
Index,
The Litter,
Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents, Adolescents.
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.