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 Austria and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1965 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Terrestrial Tones to the rap 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 Magma. All the underground hits.
All Lyres tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pulsallama record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Flesh Eaters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
Interpol,
Altered Images,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
AZ,
Crooked Eye,
Byron Stingily,
Schoolly D,
Quadrant,
Danielle Patucci,
Groovy Waters,
Rakim,
The Cure,
Matthew Bourne,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
cv313,
Yusef Lateef,
Surgeon,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ludus,
Boz Scaggs,
Maurizio,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rotary Connection,
Alice Coltrane,
Stockholm Monsters,
Gil Scott Heron,
Jacques Brel,
The Names,
Cecil Taylor,
The Residents,
Lalo Schifrin,
The Buckinghams,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Fluxion,
Swell Maps,
Aloha Tigers,
JFA,
Boredoms,
Pussy Galore,
Scion,
The Gladiators,
Gang Gang Dance,
Ralphi Rosario,
Jandek,
Terrestrial Tones,
Todd Rundgren,
Maleditus Sound,
Connie Case,
Deadbeat,
Silicon Teens,
Harry Pussy,
This Heat,
Severed Heads,
The American Breed,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Sonny Sharrock,
Excepter,
the Bar-Kays,
Stetsasonic,
the Normal,
Massinfluence,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar, Barry Ungar.
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.