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 Mauritius and from Beijing.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Dirtbombs to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Alarm Clocks. All the underground hits.
All Zapp tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Kerrie Biddell record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Scan 7 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Mission of Burma,
Lightning Bolt,
Pole,
JFA,
Depeche Mode,
Sonic Youth,
Derrick May,
Tres Demented,
Average White Band,
Pussy Galore,
Mr. Review,
Eurythmics,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Flamin' Groovies,
Lebanon Hanover,
Sällskapet,
T.S.O.L.,
John Holt,
Soul Sonic Force,
Sandy B,
Schoolly D,
June of 44,
Glambeats Corp.,
Warren Ellis,
the Normal,
Minnie Riperton,
The Zeros,
Agent Orange,
Ituana,
Robert Görl,
Desert Stars,
James White and The Blacks,
The Count Five,
Eric Dolphy,
The Sound,
Eric B and Rakim,
Anakelly,
Angry Samoans,
Patti Smith,
Siglo XX,
The American Breed,
Panda Bear,
Fear,
Wire,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Trojans,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
FM Einheit,
The Skatalites,
Gang Green,
Derrick Morgan,
Man Eating Sloth,
Lou Reed,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Archie Shepp,
The Last Poets,
Vainqueur,
Nick Fraelich,
Gang Starr,
The Remains,
Urselle, Urselle, Urselle, Urselle.
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.