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 Antigua and from Bremen.
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 1964 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 Lou Reed 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 Five Americans to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Sad Lovers and Giants. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marvin Gaye record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Oneida record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gabor Szabo,
Bush Tetras,
Scratch Acid,
Joe Smooth,
Khruangbin,
Toni Rubio,
Spoonie Gee,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Nils Olav,
Tom Boy,
Rufus Thomas,
Alton Ellis,
Janne Schatter,
Monks,
Marvin Gaye,
The Shadows of Knight,
Derrick Morgan,
Black Bananas,
John Foxx,
Soul II Soul,
Barbara Tucker,
Rites of Spring,
Radio Birdman,
Newcleus,
Excepter,
London Community Gospel Choir,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Donny Hathaway,
The Human League,
ABBA,
Half Japanese,
Bang On A Can,
X-102,
Iggy Pop,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Absolute Body Control,
The Fugs,
These Immortal Souls,
Kas Product,
Whodini,
Maurizio,
Bobby Sherman,
Stiv Bators,
Accadde A,
Los Fastidios,
Ronnie Foster,
The Sonics,
Minor Threat,
Roger Hodgson,
E-Dancer,
The Walker Brothers,
Von Mondo,
Gregory Isaacs,
Curtis Mayfield,
T. Rex,
K-Klass,
Archie Shepp,
The Offenders,
Depeche Mode,
Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys, Dead Boys.
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.