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 Guinea and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 Michael McDonald 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 Andrew Hill to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Soft Cell. All the underground hits.
All Barclay James Harvest tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gian Franco Pienzio record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
La Düsseldorf,
Lyres,
Metal Thangz,
Sällskapet,
The Mummies,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Delta 5,
Gichy Dan,
Yellowson,
Mantronix,
Surgeon,
Zapp,
the Association,
Khruangbin,
Mary Jane Girls,
Matthew Bourne,
EPMD,
Suicide,
Bush Tetras,
These Immortal Souls,
Warsaw,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Rufus Thomas,
Popol Vuh,
Subhumans,
the Sonics,
the Human League,
Grandmaster Flash,
Arthur Verocai,
Sonny Sharrock,
Kayak,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Howard Jones,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
This Heat,
The New Christs,
The Pop Group,
Siglo XX,
The Trojans,
Make Up,
Amazonics,
Judy Mowatt,
Erykah Badu,
The Mojo Men,
Derrick Morgan,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Altered Images,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Human League,
Agent Orange,
Jeff Lynne,
Moss Icon,
Crispy Ambulance,
Television,
Jawbox,
Outsiders,
Dawn Penn,
The Fuzztones,
Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade, Marmalade.
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.