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 Jamaica and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tokyo and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 güiro 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 Gang Starr to the techno kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Hashim. All the underground hits.
All Fugazi tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crispy Ambulance 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeff Lynne,
The Monks,
Thompson Twins,
Nation of Ulysses,
Desert Stars,
Mad Mike,
Juan Atkins,
Pussy Galore,
Harmonia,
Fifty Foot Hose,
LL Cool J,
Khruangbin,
Thee Headcoats,
Ossler,
Wasted Youth,
Letta Mbulu,
Freddie Wadling,
Glenn Branca,
Average White Band,
Public Image Ltd.,
Trumans Water,
Rapeman,
Connie Case,
MC5,
Youth Brigade,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Radiopuhelimet,
Soulsonic Force,
Sällskapet,
Bobby Sherman,
Monks,
Tim Buckley,
the Association,
Pagans,
Tropical Tobacco,
Das Ding,
Underground Resistance,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Carl Craig,
Faust,
Flamin' Groovies,
Country Teasers,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
China Crisis,
Los Fastidios,
The Names,
Jacques Brel,
H. Thieme,
Banda Bassotti,
Hardrive,
Monolake,
Roy Ayers,
Ultra Naté,
Max Romeo,
X-Ray Spex,
Sound Behaviour,
Arthur Verocai,
ABBA,
Archie Shepp,
David Bowie,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Arab on Radar,
Whodini,
The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke, The Smoke.
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.