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 Moldova and from Seoul.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 marimba 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 Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon to the electroclash 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Ultramagnetic MC's tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Funkadelic 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pere Ubu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Johnny Osbourne,
The Offenders,
Bobby Womack,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crispian St. Peters,
John Holt,
The Vogues,
Neu!,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Radio Birdman,
Y Pants,
Gichy Dan,
The Fuzztones,
Eric Dolphy,
Jeru the Damaja,
cv313,
Roy Ayers,
The Last Poets,
Maurizio,
Marcia Griffiths,
Surgeon,
Danielle Patucci,
Davy DMX,
Sun City Girls,
Thompson Twins,
The Smoke,
Rotary Connection,
Faraquet,
Simply Red,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Siglo XX,
Jeff Mills,
The Dirtbombs,
Brand Nubian,
Sun Ra,
Fugazi,
Au Pairs,
Suicide,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Tropical Tobacco,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Wire,
Frankie Knuckles,
Flash Fearless,
The Mummies,
Bluetip,
Ohio Players,
China Crisis,
Bootsy Collins,
Malaria!,
Sandy B,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Normal,
CMW,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
John Coltrane,
Soul II Soul,
Bobby Sherman,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti, Fela Kuti.
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.