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 Philippines and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 rhodes 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 Throbbing Gristle to the grime kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 The Techniques. All the underground hits.
All The Durutti Column tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rufus Thomas record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hardrive,
10cc,
Nils Olav,
The American Breed,
David Bowie,
Joe Finger,
Carl Craig,
The Fall,
Interpol,
The Knickerbockers,
Brick,
Buzzcocks,
Q and Not U,
Kaleidoscope,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Lungfish,
Lucky Dragons,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Intrusion,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Ronan,
F. McDonald,
Pussy Galore,
The Cramps,
The Seeds,
Bootsy Collins,
Delta 5,
Frankie Knuckles,
Gichy Dan,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Jeff Mills,
Massinfluence,
The Smiths,
U.S. Maple,
The Mojo Men,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Mark Hollis,
Grey Daturas,
Amon Düül,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
John Lydon,
Gang of Four,
Jeff Lynne,
Albert Ayler,
The Detroit Cobras,
Moebius,
Funkadelic,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fela Kuti,
The Beau Brummels,
Duran Duran,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jerry's Kids,
Malaria!,
Reuben Wilson,
The Cure,
Unrelated Segments,
Harpers Bizarre,
Max Romeo,
CMW,
The Gap Band,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
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.