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 Macedonia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 Eve St. Jones to the rap 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 Patti Smith. All the underground hits.
All A Flock of Seagulls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Divine Comedy 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 a harpsichord and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Fall record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
Hashim,
Angry Samoans,
Pere Ubu,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Last Poets,
Wolf Eyes,
Graham Central Station,
Johnny Clarke,
Basic Channel,
Delon & Dalcan,
Tim Buckley,
Scientists,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Litter,
Monks,
Funky Four + One,
The Young Rascals,
Heaven 17,
Leonard Cohen,
Pussy Galore,
Kenny Larkin,
Barrington Levy,
Maleditus Sound,
Scrapy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Tom Boy,
Jawbox,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Chris Corsano,
Bobby Womack,
Morten Harket,
Excepter,
Johnny Osbourne,
Darondo,
Blake Baxter,
Sixth Finger,
Erykah Badu,
Ultra Naté,
Tres Demented,
Tommy Roe,
Bronski Beat,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Skaos,
Aaron Thompson,
Von Mondo,
Hot Snakes,
Liliput,
Kaleidoscope,
The Move,
cv313,
Rod Modell,
8 Eyed Spy,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Derrick Morgan,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Rites of Spring,
The Moleskins,
Minnie Riperton,
Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget, Fad Gadget.
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.