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 Colombia and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ 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 Cecil Taylor to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Joy Division. All the underground hits.
All Crispian St. Peters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lindisfarne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stockholm Monsters,
Matthew Halsall,
Slick Rick,
Fat Boys,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ten City,
Crispy Ambulance,
Neil Young,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Ituana,
The Standells,
The Index,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Eli Mardock,
Q65,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
JFA,
MC5,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nirvana,
Tears for Fears,
Black Flag,
Crime,
Con Funk Shun,
Grauzone,
Mr. Review,
James White and The Blacks,
The Associates,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Real Kids,
The Music Machine,
Delon & Dalcan,
Oneida,
Outsiders,
Motorama,
Scientists,
June of 44,
Mandrill,
Crispian St. Peters,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Maleditus Sound,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
David Bowie,
Jacques Brel,
DJ Sneak,
Barrington Levy,
Terry Callier,
Sound Behaviour,
Electric Prunes,
Judy Mowatt,
The Walker Brothers,
The Sonics,
The Divine Comedy,
Desert Stars,
Susan Cadogan,
The Shadows of Knight,
Nico,
MDC,
The Modern Lovers,
Scion, Scion, Scion, Scion.
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.