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 Guinea-Bissau and from Tehran.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Ash Ra Tempel to the rock 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 John Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Sound Behaviour tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Knickerbockers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Nation of Ulysses record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Pylon,
the Swans,
OOIOO,
Rosa Yemen,
Brick,
Jeru the Damaja,
Rod Modell,
Gichy Dan,
Amazonics,
Vainqueur,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Severed Heads,
Magma,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Harmonia,
UT,
The Beau Brummels,
Flash Fearless,
Mr. Review,
The American Breed,
Can,
Liliput,
Camberwell Now,
The Black Dice,
Malaria!,
Simply Red,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Scion,
Robert Görl,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Electric Prunes,
Letta Mbulu,
Franke,
The Dirtbombs,
Bill Near,
Carl Craig,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sällskapet,
Max Romeo,
Negative Approach,
Hot Snakes,
Glenn Branca,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Metal Thangz,
Ultravox,
China Crisis,
Cecil Taylor,
the Human League,
Jimmy McGriff,
Peter & Gordon,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Blossom Toes,
Nik Kershaw,
Stetsasonic,
Accadde A,
Whodini,
Index,
The Gories,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Terry Callier,
Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson, Kevin Saunderson.
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.