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 Chile and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 güiro sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Anthony Braxton to the jazz 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 The Fall. All the underground hits.
All The Shadows of Knight tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Tremeloes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a guitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Max Romeo,
Amon Düül,
The Moody Blues,
The Gladiators,
Icehouse,
The Gun Club,
Gang Green,
Kayak,
Zapp,
Niagra,
Underground Resistance,
Anthony Braxton,
FM Einheit,
Glambeats Corp.,
Youth Brigade,
Popol Vuh,
The Fuzztones,
Fluxion,
a-ha,
Minny Pops,
DJ Style,
the Slits,
Minutemen,
Nation of Ulysses,
Matthew Bourne,
The Litter,
Thee Headcoats,
Symarip,
Idris Muhammad,
Albert Ayler,
Bill Near,
Pylon,
Barrington Levy,
Trumans Water,
Cymande,
The Buckinghams,
Black Flag,
The Remains,
Oblivians,
The Monks,
Donny Hathaway,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
R.M.O.,
Susan Cadogan,
Archie Shepp,
Spoonie Gee,
Nirvana,
Carl Craig,
The Alarm Clocks,
The Count Five,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Evens,
Sound Behaviour,
Bizarre Inc.,
the Association,
Radio Birdman,
Hot Snakes,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Martian,
Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox, Jawbox.
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.