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 Portugal and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Calgary.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 marimba 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 The Saints to the punk 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 Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Martian record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Section 25 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a guitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your guitar and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ken Boothe,
Dead Boys,
Harpers Bizarre,
Theoretical Girls,
Eddi Front,
The Seeds,
Black Bananas,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Tears for Fears,
R.M.O.,
Barrington Levy,
Yazoo,
Monolake,
Roxette,
Hasil Adkins,
Parry Music,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Delta 5,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Buckinghams,
The Gun Club,
Black Pus,
DNA,
Cal Tjader,
Eve St. Jones,
Eden Ahbez,
The Doobie Brothers,
Lightning Bolt,
The Motions,
48th St. Collective,
Nas,
The Barracudas,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Boz Scaggs,
Nick Fraelich,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Skaos,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Bush Tetras,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
The Remains,
Yusef Lateef,
Wally Richardson,
Boredoms,
Bad Manners,
Juan Atkins,
Isaac Hayes,
Babytalk,
Yellowson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Desert Stars,
Althea and Donna,
Aaron Thompson,
Wings,
Anakelly,
Monks,
Bootsy Collins,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The United States of America,
Soul Sonic Force,
Interpol,
Cheater Slicks,
H. Thieme,
Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne, Jeff Lynne.
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.