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 Israel and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 güiro 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 Fort Wilson Riot to the electroclash 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 Jerry Gold Smith. All the underground hits.
All Basic Channel 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 crunk 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 synthesizer and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Saccharine Trust,
The Index,
The Raincoats,
Can,
Scratch Acid,
Juan Atkins,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Parry Music,
The Star Department,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rufus Thomas,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fad Gadget,
DJ Style,
K-Klass,
Idris Muhammad,
Yusef Lateef,
The Blackbyrds,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Moebius,
Charles Mingus,
Camouflage,
The Gun Club,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Gang Starr,
Joe Finger,
H. Thieme,
The Divine Comedy,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Aaron Thompson,
Boz Scaggs,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Ten City,
8 Eyed Spy,
Steve Hackett,
Sight & Sound,
Basic Channel,
Donald Byrd,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Bobby Womack,
Jawbox,
Amon Düül,
Unwound,
the Fania All-Stars,
Crispy Ambulance,
Prince Buster,
Pole,
cv313,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Cal Tjader,
Tropical Tobacco,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bush Tetras,
Dual Sessions,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The New Christs,
Johnny Clarke,
James White and The Blacks,
Arcadia,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
R.M.O.,
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.