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 Singapore and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1965.
I was there at the first Beefheart show in Lancaster.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Boogie Down Productions to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All E-Dancer tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Peanut Butter Conspiracy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Main Source,
The Names,
Todd Terry,
The Martian,
Eyeless In Gaza,
MC5,
The Motions,
The Fire Engines,
Yaz,
Fear,
48th St. Collective,
Slave,
Boz Scaggs,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Dead C,
Duran Duran,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Mad Mike,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Moss Icon,
The Gladiators,
Marvin Gaye,
Drive Like Jehu,
Motorama,
Rekid,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Nik Kershaw,
Pylon,
the Association,
Jeff Lynne,
Danielle Patucci,
Clear Light,
Jawbox,
Saccharine Trust,
Agitation Free,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Donald Byrd,
Rosa Yemen,
Pantytec,
Boredoms,
Pole,
Bush Tetras,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Real Kids,
Arab on Radar,
Darondo,
The Misunderstood,
Maurizio,
The United States of America,
the Slits,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Warsaw,
Amazonics,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Slits,
Lightning Bolt,
John Lydon,
Faraquet,
Livin' Joy,
K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass, K-Klass.
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.