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 Cape Verde and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 sitar 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 A Certain Ratio to the dance 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 Ice-T. All the underground hits.
All The Doors tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra Arkestra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 marimba and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Agent Orange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Black Moon,
Vladislav Delay,
Altered Images,
Donald Byrd,
Arthur Verocai,
Andrew Hill,
Eve St. Jones,
Jeff Mills,
Terrestrial Tones,
Lungfish,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Funkadelic,
Essential Logic,
The Music Machine,
Nick Fraelich,
Derrick May,
Eden Ahbez,
the Swans,
Underground Resistance,
Arab on Radar,
Ultravox,
Magazine,
Wire,
Drive Like Jehu,
Kenny Larkin,
Harry Pussy,
Dorothy Ashby,
Index,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Doors,
Mad Mike,
Pierre Henry,
Television,
Kool Moe Dee,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Kevin Saunderson,
Shuggie Otis,
Hoover,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
48th St. Collective,
Bang On A Can,
Niagra,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Circle Jerks,
Terry Callier,
Excepter,
Deakin,
Popol Vuh,
Slave,
Pharoah Sanders,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Steve Hackett,
Cymande,
MDC,
Iggy Pop,
The Smoke,
Robert Görl,
Ultra Naté,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.
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.