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 Haiti and from Portland.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 oboe 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 Hoover to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Light Orchestra 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a UT 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?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
One Last Wish,
Black Moon,
Icehouse,
Lightning Bolt,
Soul Sonic Force,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Pop Group,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Birthday Party,
Barrington Levy,
The Zeros,
Camouflage,
The Trojans,
The Blues Magoos,
Scion,
Parry Music,
Nils Olav,
The Toasters,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Todd Rundgren,
Minnie Riperton,
Cameo,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Young Rascals,
Aural Exciters,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Rapeman,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Trumans Water,
Clear Light,
Gang Starr,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Mandrill,
Lyres,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Groovy Waters,
Slave,
Ronnie Foster,
Buzzcocks,
Masters at Work,
Tubeway Army,
Grandmaster Flash,
Barry Ungar,
Bobby Womack,
Byron Stingily,
Sound Behaviour,
Scott Walker,
Graham Central Station,
The Fortunes,
Wasted Youth,
Amon Düül II,
Monks,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Davy DMX,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Vogues,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Animal Collective,
Letta Mbulu,
X-101,
8 Eyed Spy,
Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma, Mission of Burma.
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.