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 Barbados and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Simply Red to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 CMW. All the underground hits.
All The Zeros tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every T. Rex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Porter Ricks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
Kerrie Biddell,
The Fugs,
Donald Byrd,
The Gap Band,
Duran Duran,
Eddi Front,
Brand Nubian,
Accadde A,
La Düsseldorf,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Kenny Larkin,
The Doors,
Lucky Dragons,
Don Cherry,
Malaria!,
The New Christs,
Metal Thangz,
Qualms,
Andrew Hill,
The Knickerbockers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Flash Fearless,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Silicon Teens,
Crooked Eye,
Theoretical Girls,
Arcadia,
The Electric Prunes,
The Fortunes,
Colin Newman,
the Bar-Kays,
kango's stein massive,
The Vogues,
Connie Case,
Funkadelic,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
LL Cool J,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Hot Snakes,
Minutemen,
Grey Daturas,
Pharoah Sanders,
Pussy Galore,
Half Japanese,
Wolf Eyes,
The Saints,
The Martian,
Sex Pistols,
Blancmange,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sixth Finger,
Archie Shepp,
Tres Demented,
The Busters,
Althea and Donna,
The Gladiators,
Robert Wyatt,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.