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 Pakistan and from Tokyo.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mumbai.
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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Banda Bassotti to the grime kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Electric Light Orchestra. All the underground hits.
All Mr. Review tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quando Quango record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Harpers Bizarre record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Dirtbombs,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Barclay James Harvest,
Sugar Minott,
Pulsallama,
the Swans,
Marine Girls,
Mr. Review,
Main Source,
Lalann,
Donald Byrd,
Franke,
Dorothy Ashby,
Maurizio,
Bang On A Can,
Duran Duran,
The Stooges,
Rapeman,
Sparks,
Rod Modell,
James White and The Blacks,
Groovy Waters,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Mojo Men,
Lightning Bolt,
The Techniques,
The Golliwogs,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Doors,
Livin' Joy,
Arcadia,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Leonard Cohen,
The Invisible,
Alton Ellis,
Crooked Eye,
The Pretty Things,
Nick Fraelich,
The American Breed,
The Fortunes,
Pussy Galore,
Hoover,
Mars,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Harmonia,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Jandek,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Divine Comedy,
Lower 48,
Vladislav Delay,
Funky Four + One,
Davy DMX,
Grandmaster Flash,
Spoonie Gee,
Lou Reed,
Loose Ends,
The Gun Club,
Rekid,
Isaac Hayes,
The Fugs,
Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes, Wolf Eyes.
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.