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 Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 David Bowie 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 Glambeats Corp. to the punk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 8 Eyed Spy. All the underground hits.
All Kango’s Stein Massive tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Quantec 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Swans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ralphi Rosario,
Nils Olav,
Royal Trux,
Lou Christie,
Lightning Bolt,
Mary Jane Girls,
Tropical Tobacco,
Cymande,
Minnie Riperton,
Harmonia,
The Evens,
D'Angelo,
The Names,
Johnny Osbourne,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Kool Moe Dee,
Pagans,
Das Ding,
ABC,
The Neon Judgement,
Cecil Taylor,
Suicide,
Fat Boys,
Simply Red,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Spoonie Gee,
James White and The Blacks,
The Monks,
Avey Tare,
Khruangbin,
Agent Orange,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Infiniti,
Piero Umiliani,
Letta Mbulu,
Sparks,
Graham Central Station,
Qualms,
The Residents,
Y Pants,
Trumans Water,
Funky Four + One,
The Red Krayola,
Unrelated Segments,
Bobby Byrd,
K-Klass,
Kurtis Blow,
Todd Terry,
Minutemen,
Pylon,
Joyce Sims,
Dennis Brown,
Chrome,
Albert Ayler,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Fugazi,
Don Cherry,
X-101,
Lungfish,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.