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 Halifax.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Delhi and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 synthesizer 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 Reuben Wilson to the disco kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Aloha Tigers. All the underground hits.
All Stetsasonic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dawn Penn 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kaleidoscope,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Moby Grape,
Simply Red,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Human League,
Grey Daturas,
Franke,
Audionom,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
R.M.O.,
Grandmaster Flash,
Connie Case,
The Gories,
Los Fastidios,
The Index,
Quadrant,
Matthew Halsall,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Black Sheep,
U.S. Maple,
Rites of Spring,
Royal Trux,
Bobby Womack,
The Birthday Party,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Eyeless In Gaza,
8 Eyed Spy,
T. Rex,
Gang Starr,
Marvin Gaye,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Idris Muhammad,
Don Cherry,
Qualms,
Porter Ricks,
The Saints,
Tropical Tobacco,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Vainqueur,
Skaos,
Pylon,
Curtis Mayfield,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Kinks,
Pulsallama,
The Offenders,
The Busters,
Moebius,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Slits,
Khruangbin,
Wasted Youth,
Bill Near,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Siglo XX,
Sandy B,
Magma,
James White and The Blacks,
Pantytec,
Minnie Riperton,
Barclay James Harvest,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
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.