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 Armenia and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 The Remains to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Gun Club. All the underground hits.
All Brass Construction tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeru the Damaja 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 marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kool G Rap & DJ Polo record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The New Christs,
The Smoke,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Magma,
Lou Reed,
Funky Four + One,
Ronnie Foster,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Selecter,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sight & Sound,
Connie Case,
Freddie Wadling,
Glenn Branca,
Lakeside,
Sarah Menescal,
Moby Grape,
Crispy Ambulance,
K-Klass,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Gil Scott Heron,
Soft Cell,
Radio Birdman,
Gerry Rafferty,
Tubeway Army,
Absolute Body Control,
The Stooges,
The Fuzztones,
Donny Hathaway,
Rosa Yemen,
Jawbox,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Moody Blues,
The Standells,
Clear Light,
The Victims,
Crash Course in Science,
Pussy Galore,
The Mummies,
Glambeats Corp.,
Eli Mardock,
DNA,
Michelle Simonal,
Warsaw,
Neil Young,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Neon Judgement,
Tomorrow,
The Golliwogs,
The Fugs,
Aloha Tigers,
Panda Bear,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Monochrome Set,
Tropical Tobacco,
Amazonics,
Yellowson,
FM Einheit,
Fatback Band,
Masters at Work,
Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins, Hasil Adkins.
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.