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 Sweden and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Liaisons Dangereuses to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All Dawn Penn tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 an arpeggiator and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Outsiders record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Khruangbin,
Sunsets and Hearts,
A Certain Ratio,
Gerry Rafferty,
Scrapy,
Stetsasonic,
The New Christs,
Sun Ra,
Gang Gang Dance,
Reuben Wilson,
Altered Images,
Chrome,
Rosa Yemen,
Nas,
Glenn Branca,
Funkadelic,
Fugazi,
These Immortal Souls,
The Buckinghams,
The Seeds,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Neon Judgement,
Joey Negro,
Yellowson,
Curtis Mayfield,
KRS-One,
Jimmy McGriff,
This Heat,
Suicide,
Radiohead,
Sexual Harrassment,
Cecil Taylor,
Pet Shop Boys,
Jacob Miller,
The Pop Group,
The Moody Blues,
Bill Wells,
Nirvana,
Dennis Brown,
The Wake,
Peter & Gordon,
Saccharine Trust,
Guru Guru,
Monolake,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Wasted Youth,
Sex Pistols,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jeru the Damaja,
Vladislav Delay,
Aswad,
The United States of America,
Terry Callier,
Goldenarms,
Intrusion,
L. Decosne,
Oneida,
Magazine,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Minny Pops,
The Monochrome Set,
The Victims,
The Busters, The Busters, The Busters, The Busters.
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.