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 Maldives and from Seoul.
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 1962 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Woodstock.
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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Darondo to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Das Ding. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Ultra Naté 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Animal Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sex Pistols,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Marcia Griffiths,
MDC,
The Stooges,
The Evens,
Harmonia,
H. Thieme,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mandrill,
Porter Ricks,
Moby Grape,
The Seeds,
Rekid,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Niagra,
Gong,
Amon Düül,
Scratch Acid,
The Mummies,
Deakin,
Barrington Levy,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
June Days,
Slick Rick,
Albert Ayler,
Cal Tjader,
Traffic Nightmare,
Public Image Ltd.,
the Fania All-Stars,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Girls At Our Best!,
Donny Hathaway,
Surgeon,
Section 25,
Skaos,
Pharoah Sanders,
Bill Near,
DJ Style,
Ronnie Foster,
Sight & Sound,
Rapeman,
The Zeros,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Tropical Tobacco,
Malaria!,
The Fuzztones,
D'Angelo,
Gang Gang Dance,
Michelle Simonal,
Bizarre Inc.,
Amazonics,
The Angels of Light,
Yellowson,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Harpers Bizarre,
Scott Walker,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Wally Richardson,
Lou Reed,
The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings, The Happenings.
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.