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 Tunisia and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1968 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 New Order to the rock 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 Khruangbin. All the underground hits.
All Panda Bear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Byron Stingily record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eve St. Jones,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Negative Approach,
Minnie Riperton,
Graham Central Station,
Harry Pussy,
Minutemen,
Cecil Taylor,
Talk Talk,
DNA,
Zero Boys,
Eddi Front,
The Fortunes,
The Index,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Susan Cadogan,
Bill Near,
Underground Resistance,
Monolake,
Newcleus,
Crash Course in Science,
The Misunderstood,
Jawbox,
Sexual Harrassment,
Sugar Minott,
The Real Kids,
Ultravox,
Pet Shop Boys,
Minor Threat,
Make Up,
Robert Wyatt,
KRS-One,
Black Bananas,
Blossom Toes,
Yaz,
D'Angelo,
Theoretical Girls,
Stiv Bators,
Carl Craig,
The Doors,
The Count Five,
Thee Headcoats,
Second Layer,
The Black Dice,
Eric B and Rakim,
Gil Scott Heron,
Royal Trux,
K-Klass,
DJ Style,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Grass Roots,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The New Christs,
Godley & Creme,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Tres Demented,
Barrington Levy,
Connie Case,
Wolf Eyes,
The Blackbyrds,
Porter Ricks,
MDC,
Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose, Fifty Foot Hose.
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.