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 Denmark and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 organ 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 Gian Franco Pienzio to the grime kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Public Enemy. All the underground hits.
All Chris Corsano tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every One Last Wish record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 harpsichord and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Barrington Levy,
the Sonics,
The Last Poets,
Magma,
Von Mondo,
Amazonics,
Donny Hathaway,
The Grass Roots,
Sixth Finger,
Urselle,
Sister Nancy,
The Blackbyrds,
Scratch Acid,
Robert Görl,
Pole,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Index,
The Music Machine,
Minutemen,
Matthew Bourne,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marcia Griffiths,
Lou Christie,
Swans,
Lebanon Hanover,
Joe Finger,
Kool Moe Dee,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Dead Boys,
Brothers Johnson,
Barry Ungar,
Thompson Twins,
Radio Birdman,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Hardrive,
the Human League,
Wire,
Chrome,
The Fugs,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Pop Group,
Reagan Youth,
Lee Hazlewood,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Happenings,
Bootsy Collins,
This Heat,
Shoche,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Robert Wyatt,
Cymande,
Girls At Our Best!,
The American Breed,
The Raincoats,
Fluxion,
Terry Callier,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Livin' Joy,
Anakelly,
Nik Kershaw,
Eddi Front,
The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang, The Men They Couldn't Hang.
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.