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 Morocco and from Shanghai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Interpol to the funk 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 Yusef Lateef. All the underground hits.
All Carl Craig tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Panda Bear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Red Krayola,
Roxette,
The Dead C,
John Foxx,
Davy DMX,
The Real Kids,
Ten City,
Alice Coltrane,
Wings,
Duran Duran,
The Selecter,
Minnie Riperton,
Gichy Dan,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Fort Wilson Riot,
F. McDonald,
Harmonia,
The Alarm Clocks,
Lebanon Hanover,
Wolf Eyes,
Graham Central Station,
R.M.O.,
The Moody Blues,
Crispian St. Peters,
Young Marble Giants,
Negative Approach,
Terry Callier,
Maleditus Sound,
Pantaleimon,
Judy Mowatt,
The Barracudas,
Bad Manners,
Gang of Four,
Suburban Knight,
Alphaville,
The Fortunes,
Urselle,
Intrusion,
kango's stein massive,
H. Thieme,
Alton Ellis,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Joe Smooth,
Cheater Slicks,
Q65,
FM Einheit,
The Last Poets,
Sällskapet,
Skriet,
Crispy Ambulance,
Nils Olav,
Babytalk,
Juan Atkins,
Leonard Cohen,
Bill Near,
Kas Product,
Fat Boys,
Soft Cell,
Eric Copeland,
Ituana,
The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters, The Flesh Eaters.
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.