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 Guinea and from Jakarta.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 Shanghai and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Banda Bassotti to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Ajijia Myrayebe. All the underground hits.
All Bobby Womack tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Vainqueur record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lungfish,
Eurythmics,
Barbara Tucker,
Jacques Brel,
Henry Cow,
Flash Fearless,
Scott Walker,
The Invisible,
Lindisfarne,
Saccharine Trust,
Davy DMX,
Gang Gang Dance,
Sex Pistols,
Depeche Mode,
Oneida,
Zero Boys,
L. Decosne,
Supertramp,
Avey Tare,
Soft Machine,
David Axelrod,
The New Christs,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Pet Shop Boys,
Porter Ricks,
Marcia Griffiths,
Black Pus,
F. McDonald,
Jacob Miller,
Rekid,
Kevin Saunderson,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Electric Prunes,
Man Eating Sloth,
Outsiders,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Index,
Thee Headcoats,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Marc Almond,
Scientists,
the Bar-Kays,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Scion,
Black Sheep,
Gang of Four,
Warren Ellis,
Scratch Acid,
New Order,
Bob Dylan,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
This Heat,
Lightning Bolt,
X-Ray Spex,
Boogie Down Productions,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sparks,
Crash Course in Science,
Angry Samoans,
the Sonics,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity, Roy Ayers Ubiquity.
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.