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 Armenia and from Milan.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Portland.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Halifax 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 mellotron 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 Eli Mardock to the crunk 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 Essential Logic. All the underground hits.
All Strawberry Alarm Clock tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Supertramp record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Marine Girls,
Talk Talk,
Agent Orange,
Stiv Bators,
The Zeros,
Brothers Johnson,
Maleditus Sound,
Pierre Henry,
Althea and Donna,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
H. Thieme,
Leonard Cohen,
The Smiths,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Nirvana,
Desert Stars,
Joe Smooth,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Shadows of Knight,
Brand Nubian,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Monks,
Drive Like Jehu,
Sonic Youth,
Graham Central Station,
Black Bananas,
The Last Poets,
Camouflage,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Quantec,
Reuben Wilson,
The Blackbyrds,
the Normal,
Ultra Naté,
Tres Demented,
Kurtis Blow,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Wake,
Pantytec,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Patti Smith,
Hardrive,
Jeru the Damaja,
Dual Sessions,
The Motions,
The Count Five,
Echospace,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Barracudas,
Quadrant,
Sun City Girls,
Archie Shepp,
Public Enemy,
Chrome,
JFA,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Angry Samoans,
Panda Bear,
Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow, Kings Of Tomorrow.
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.