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 Korea South and from Johannesburg.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Donny Hathaway to the techno 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 Fort Wilson Riot. All the underground hits.
All Gang Starr tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Anthony Braxton record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lyres,
The Selecter,
X-Ray Spex,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Soft Cell,
The Music Machine,
Howard Jones,
Yazoo,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Todd Terry,
Vladislav Delay,
Bill Near,
The Cowsills,
Kayak,
The Fugs,
The Durutti Column,
Soul Sonic Force,
Funkadelic,
Duran Duran,
Infiniti,
Tomorrow,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Siglo XX,
Harpers Bizarre,
Boogie Down Productions,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Grass Roots,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Janne Schatter,
Jawbox,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Smoke,
Idris Muhammad,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Arcadia,
Theoretical Girls,
Rosa Yemen,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Unwound,
Angry Samoans,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Robert Hood,
U.S. Maple,
Malaria!,
Bob Dylan,
The Angels of Light,
Sun Ra,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Birthday Party,
Gichy Dan,
the Bar-Kays,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Silicon Teens,
June Days,
Wolf Eyes,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Dead C,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.