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 India and from Halifax.
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 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Pierre Henry to the punk 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 Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud. All the underground hits.
All Audionom tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Slick Rick 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a New Order record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Mojo Men,
Minny Pops,
Sixth Finger,
The Moleskins,
Ultravox,
Bizarre Inc.,
Gil Scott Heron,
Monks,
The Associates,
Grauzone,
Stiv Bators,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Cluster,
DNA,
Excepter,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Wasted Youth,
The Durutti Column,
Moby Grape,
Terrestrial Tones,
Sonic Youth,
Lakeside,
June of 44,
Nik Kershaw,
Procol Harum,
The Gladiators,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
David Axelrod,
Gang Green,
The Techniques,
Marcia Griffiths,
Symarip,
Bobby Sherman,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Alton Ellis,
Dorothy Ashby,
Make Up,
Matthew Bourne,
Faust,
Sarah Menescal,
Hashim,
Clear Light,
Bootsy Collins,
Cybotron,
Infiniti,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tommy Roe,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Desert Stars,
DJ Sneak,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Shoche,
Joy Division,
Brass Construction,
Swell Maps,
Crispian St. Peters,
Barry Ungar,
MDC,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
48th St. Collective,
Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance, Crispy Ambulance.
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.