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 Iceland and from Spokane.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 The American Breed to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Carl Craig. All the underground hits.
All Lee Hazlewood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Reuben Wilson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yellowson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Japan,
Jacob Miller,
Black Moon,
Joensuu 1685,
Roger Hodgson,
The Martian,
The Sonics,
the Slits,
Johnny Clarke,
Saccharine Trust,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Public Enemy,
X-101,
Scrapy,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Selecter,
The Techniques,
T. Rex,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Popol Vuh,
Jimmy McGriff,
Flipper,
Rekid,
Ituana,
Terrestrial Tones,
JFA,
Cymande,
Wolf Eyes,
Dave Gahan,
Peter & Gordon,
Pere Ubu,
Jeru the Damaja,
Bad Manners,
Yaz,
Fela Kuti,
Heaven 17,
B.T. Express,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Misunderstood,
Echospace,
Marcia Griffiths,
OOIOO,
The Music Machine,
Joyce Sims,
Radiopuhelimet,
Ultravox,
FM Einheit,
Albert Ayler,
Black Bananas,
John Lydon,
John Holt,
Aural Exciters,
Oblivians,
Sam Rivers,
Intrusion,
Carl Craig,
Hasil Adkins,
The Gladiators,
The Sound,
Matthew Halsall,
kango's stein massive,
The Offenders,
Little Man,
Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May, Derrick May.
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.