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 Cambodia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Cameo. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spandau Ballet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
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 The Smoke record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Don Cherry,
Main Source,
Loose Ends,
Brand Nubian,
Royal Trux,
Terrestrial Tones,
Chris & Cosey,
the Soft Cell,
The Moleskins,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Archie Shepp,
Matthew Halsall,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Vogues,
Harry Pussy,
Mr. Review,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Tommy Roe,
the Normal,
Tears for Fears,
The Skatalites,
Pylon,
Desert Stars,
Jandek,
OOIOO,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Section 25,
Erasure,
Porter Ricks,
Television,
Massinfluence,
The Smoke,
The Smiths,
The Residents,
Brothers Johnson,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Arab on Radar,
Saccharine Trust,
Terry Callier,
The Grass Roots,
The Birthday Party,
The Human League,
Sonny Sharrock,
Reuben Wilson,
The Sound,
Soul Sonic Force,
Hardrive,
Sparks,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Negative Approach,
The Kinks,
Joe Finger,
Metal Thangz,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Fall,
Tomorrow,
Public Image Ltd.,
Peter and Kerry,
Eve St. Jones,
10cc,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane, Big Daddy Kane.
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.