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 Hungary and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 A Certain Ratio to the punk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Anthony Braxton tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barrington Levy 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Kinks,
Sound Behaviour,
Visage,
The Fall,
Robert Wyatt,
Arthur Verocai,
Roxette,
Black Bananas,
Newcleus,
Terry Callier,
Wally Richardson,
Gang Starr,
Grey Daturas,
Massinfluence,
Erasure,
The Remains,
Johnny Clarke,
Ultra Naté,
Agitation Free,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
James White and The Blacks,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Alice Coltrane,
the Swans,
Althea and Donna,
Lalann,
Yaz,
Tomorrow,
Crooked Eye,
The Last Poets,
These Immortal Souls,
Bluetip,
Laurel Aitken,
Davy DMX,
Sugar Minott,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Jawbox,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Camouflage,
The Grass Roots,
Hasil Adkins,
Vainqueur,
Mark Hollis,
Scrapy,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Monks,
Animal Collective,
Surgeon,
ABC,
Carl Craig,
Make Up,
Delta 5,
New Order,
Oneida,
The Shadows of Knight,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Soft Machine,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rekid, Rekid, Rekid, Rekid.
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.