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 Liberia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Lou Reed 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 Zapp 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 The Tremeloes. All the underground hits.
All Alison Limerick tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fort Wilson Riot record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Intrusion,
Hashim,
Nas,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Altered Images,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Pierre Henry,
Steve Hackett,
Scrapy,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Hardrive,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Crime,
Howard Jones,
Nico,
Joe Finger,
Graham Central Station,
The Slackers,
The Grass Roots,
Chris & Cosey,
Vainqueur,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Busters,
Cecil Taylor,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Outsiders,
Bobby Sherman,
The Smiths,
Das Ding,
Japan,
Moby Grape,
the Bar-Kays,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Sight & Sound,
Gang Green,
Black Flag,
Thee Headcoats,
Robert Wyatt,
The Dead C,
The Remains,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cheater Slicks,
Throbbing Gristle,
Davy DMX,
Liliput,
Harmonia,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pantytec,
The Angels of Light,
Make Up,
These Immortal Souls,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Model 500,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Durutti Column,
The Selecter,
The Searchers,
Cal Tjader,
Wire,
Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield, Curtis Mayfield.
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.