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 Luxembourg and from Taipei.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Swans to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Smiths. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every John Foxx record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 48th St. Collective record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kurtis Blow,
Surgeon,
John Coltrane,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Donny Hathaway,
Clear Light,
Black Bananas,
Suburban Knight,
Smog,
Trumans Water,
U.S. Maple,
Big Daddy Kane,
Popol Vuh,
Symarip,
Jesper Dahlback,
Dennis Brown,
Brass Construction,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Bobby Byrd,
Lalo Schifrin,
Johnny Clarke,
Ituana,
Second Layer,
Pagans,
Charles Mingus,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Index,
10cc,
Glambeats Corp.,
Dave Gahan,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Offenders,
Lower 48,
Fad Gadget,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Ken Boothe,
Pantytec,
Magazine,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Aaron Thompson,
The Tremeloes,
The Doors,
Faust,
Black Sheep,
Goldenarms,
LL Cool J,
Camouflage,
Boredoms,
Frankie Knuckles,
Theoretical Girls,
Don Cherry,
Quando Quango,
Robert Hood,
T. Rex,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Spandau Ballet,
Anthony Braxton,
John Cale,
Chrome,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.