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 Iraq and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Alarm Clocks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 The Names. All the underground hits.
All The Black Dice tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Osbourne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 theremin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
Malaria!,
Moby Grape,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Remains,
Mark Hollis,
Flipper,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Move,
R.M.O.,
Marshall Jefferson,
Man Parrish,
Vladislav Delay,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Darondo,
The Black Dice,
The Moleskins,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Average White Band,
Nas,
Pole,
Adolescents,
Trumans Water,
the Germs,
UT,
Tommy Roe,
Bad Manners,
Smog,
The Misunderstood,
8 Eyed Spy,
Absolute Body Control,
The Gladiators,
Bush Tetras,
Radio Birdman,
Shoche,
Cymande,
The Durutti Column,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
John Foxx,
Kool Moe Dee,
Mantronix,
Joy Division,
Tim Buckley,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Prince Buster,
The Dirtbombs,
David Bowie,
The Trojans,
Godley & Creme,
Judy Mowatt,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Kas Product,
Wings,
Sam Rivers,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Gichy Dan,
Neu!,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Derrick May,
Sister Nancy,
Bobby Byrd,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone, Sly & The Family Stone.
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.