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 Ivory Coast and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1963 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 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 Roger Hodgson to the rock 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 Crime. All the underground hits.
All Nick Fraelich tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Electric Prunes 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Clear Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Terrestrial Tones,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Angry Samoans,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Andrew Hill,
The Misunderstood,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Vogues,
Moss Icon,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Nas,
Deakin,
Sonic Youth,
Make Up,
Todd Terry,
Main Source,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Can,
Girls At Our Best!,
The Doobie Brothers,
Oneida,
Blancmange,
Glambeats Corp.,
Grauzone,
The Detroit Cobras,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Rosa Yemen,
Alison Limerick,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Harry Pussy,
Chris Corsano,
Flash Fearless,
The Martian,
Young Marble Giants,
The Tremeloes,
Babytalk,
Ralphi Rosario,
The J.B.'s,
The Invisible,
Interpol,
Skarface,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Prince Buster,
Lucky Dragons,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Iggy Pop,
Mad Mike,
World's Most,
Crispian St. Peters,
Circle Jerks,
Anthony Braxton,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Evens,
Junior Murvin,
Idris Muhammad,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Jawbox,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Country Teasers,
Lyres,
Kool Moe Dee,
Robert Wyatt,
DNA,
Sound Behaviour,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.