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 Cyprus and from Accra.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Portland 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang to the crunk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Bang on a Can All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Sarah Menescal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pussy Galore 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marine Girls record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aaron Thompson,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
MDC,
Nation of Ulysses,
Bobby Womack,
Joensuu 1685,
Kenny Larkin,
Essential Logic,
Ultra Naté,
Masters at Work,
Scan 7,
The Blues Magoos,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Selecter,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Sonics,
Wings,
Nik Kershaw,
Don Cherry,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
James White and The Blacks,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Infiniti,
Kaleidoscope,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Barclay James Harvest,
the Sonics,
Sun Ra,
Sonny Sharrock,
Parry Music,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Adolescents,
Mark Hollis,
Supertramp,
Deadbeat,
Arab on Radar,
John Lydon,
Josef K,
Archie Shepp,
Albert Ayler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Cheater Slicks,
Kurtis Blow,
The Raincoats,
Deakin,
The Flesh Eaters,
Easy Going,
Fat Boys,
Glenn Branca,
Goldenarms,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Audionom,
Al Stewart,
DJ Style,
Brick,
Cal Tjader,
Mandrill,
ABC,
The Index,
Juan Atkins,
Lower 48,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.