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 Honduras 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 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Bobby Womack to the techno kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Justin Hinds & The Dominoes tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Loose Ends record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amazonics record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Sheep,
Electric Prunes,
Surgeon,
Glambeats Corp.,
Quantec,
Sällskapet,
The Cosmic Jokers,
New Age Steppers,
Leonard Cohen,
Judy Mowatt,
Fatback Band,
Robert Hood,
These Immortal Souls,
Cheater Slicks,
Angry Samoans,
Malaria!,
Los Fastidios,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Minor Threat,
Wire,
Cecil Taylor,
Rakim,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Joensuu 1685,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Bauhaus,
Panda Bear,
Lebanon Hanover,
Faust,
Amazonics,
Freddie Wadling,
The Count Five,
Lou Christie,
The Last Poets,
Average White Band,
Monks,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Talk Talk,
Radiohead,
Flamin' Groovies,
kango's stein massive,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
T.S.O.L.,
Hot Snakes,
LL Cool J,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Radio Birdman,
Black Flag,
Rufus Thomas,
This Heat,
Gang Green,
Suburban Knight,
Dennis Brown,
The Searchers,
DJ Style,
Harpers Bizarre,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Glenn Branca,
U.S. Maple,
Piero Umiliani,
JFA,
Flash Fearless,
Barry Ungar,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade, Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade.
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.