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 Seychelles and from Shanghai.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Cairo and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Television Personalities to the rap 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 Symarip. All the underground hits.
All New Age Steppers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 snare and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Moebius record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Severed Heads,
Sarah Menescal,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Amazonics,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Harmonia,
The Count Five,
Vladislav Delay,
Black Flag,
Angry Samoans,
Hot Snakes,
Metal Thangz,
Lyres,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Seeds,
Sugar Minott,
The Detroit Cobras,
Main Source,
Interpol,
The Saints,
MC5,
The Blackbyrds,
Kas Product,
The Toasters,
Brass Construction,
The Red Krayola,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Massinfluence,
Danielle Patucci,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Aswad,
Lou Reed,
E-Dancer,
The Leaves,
Man Parrish,
Stetsasonic,
The Happenings,
Nils Olav,
Grauzone,
Curtis Mayfield,
Animal Collective,
Bob Dylan,
Underground Resistance,
This Heat,
the Sonics,
Fat Boys,
Q and Not U,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Frankie Knuckles,
Hashim,
Das Ding,
Talk Talk,
Albert Ayler,
Rekid,
Television,
Barrington Levy,
Don Cherry,
Nik Kershaw,
Section 25,
EPMD,
the Normal,
Mantronix,
Grandmaster Flash,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.