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 Uruguay and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Stockholm Monsters to the crunk 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 Thompson Twins. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mad Mike 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
the Fania All-Stars,
the Normal,
Liliput,
Black Sheep,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Birthday Party,
Gang Starr,
The Skatalites,
The Standells,
8 Eyed Spy,
Jawbox,
Soul II Soul,
The Human League,
The Gories,
The Moleskins,
Graham Central Station,
The Last Poets,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Offenders,
Fifty Foot Hose,
John Lydon,
Duran Duran,
Judy Mowatt,
The Cowsills,
Rapeman,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The New Christs,
Theoretical Girls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Radiohead,
R.M.O.,
the Bar-Kays,
Soft Cell,
John Foxx,
Scott Walker,
Pere Ubu,
Sun City Girls,
Sällskapet,
Neil Young,
Lou Christie,
Kerrie Biddell,
Audionom,
Swell Maps,
Bobby Womack,
Franke,
Drexciya,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Skaos,
Country Teasers,
Anthony Braxton,
Khruangbin,
Deepchord,
David Axelrod,
Maleditus Sound,
Radiopuhelimet,
Morten Harket,
The Sonics,
The Red Krayola,
Procol Harum,
Barry Ungar,
Soulsonic Force,
Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flash.
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.