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 Cameroon and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 rhodes 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 Invisible to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Lee Hazlewood. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Drexciya record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terry Callier record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Inner City,
Jacques Brel,
Radiohead,
Parry Music,
Sun Ra,
The Modern Lovers,
Sight & Sound,
Bob Dylan,
Sister Nancy,
Byron Stingily,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Flipper,
Quando Quango,
Nation of Ulysses,
Pantytec,
Jawbox,
Organ,
Ludus,
B.T. Express,
Mo-Dettes,
The Divine Comedy,
Shoche,
Marmalade,
Gang of Four,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Flamin' Groovies,
Country Teasers,
Robert Wyatt,
Scion,
John Cale,
Joe Smooth,
The Knickerbockers,
Aural Exciters,
Reuben Wilson,
Simply Red,
Youth Brigade,
Rod Modell,
Absolute Body Control,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Seeds,
The Associates,
the Soft Cell,
Prince Buster,
Ice-T,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Human League,
Brick,
Danielle Patucci,
Boz Scaggs,
Pet Shop Boys,
Subhumans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Swell Maps,
Pere Ubu,
Roy Ayers,
Fela Kuti,
Eric B and Rakim,
the Swans, the Swans, the Swans, the Swans.
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.