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 Dominica and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 Matthew Halsall to the punk 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 Angels of Light & Akron/Family. All the underground hits.
All Delta 5 tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harmonia record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 an oboe and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pretty Things record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Durutti Column,
Kurtis Blow,
Icehouse,
Scratch Acid,
Lower 48,
June Days,
Kaleidoscope,
Eli Mardock,
EPMD,
Pantytec,
Deakin,
Stereo Dub,
Circle Jerks,
Das Ding,
Ituana,
Flipper,
Surgeon,
Eddi Front,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
The Human League,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Seeds,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
The Fire Engines,
Television Personalities,
Neu!,
Lou Christie,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gabor Szabo,
Khruangbin,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Minnie Riperton,
the Fania All-Stars,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Pop Group,
The Slits,
David Bowie,
The Black Dice,
Boogie Down Productions,
Skaos,
Whodini,
Moby Grape,
Barclay James Harvest,
Frankie Knuckles,
Letta Mbulu,
Neil Young,
Marine Girls,
Masters at Work,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Blancmange,
Goldenarms,
Gang Gang Dance,
Blossom Toes,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Wire,
The Cowsills,
Unwound,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Danielle Patucci,
Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon, Pantaleimon.
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.