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 Cape Verde and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Inner City 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 Country Joe & The Fish. All the underground hits.
All Cymande tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every James White and The Blacks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bill Near record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Agent Orange,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Warren Ellis,
Stockholm Monsters,
Traffic Nightmare,
T.S.O.L.,
Slick Rick,
Albert Ayler,
Moby Grape,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Bootsy Collins,
Circle Jerks,
Idris Muhammad,
The Raincoats,
Ice-T,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Electric Prunes,
Eve St. Jones,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Arcadia,
The Dirtbombs,
Gichy Dan,
DNA,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Eden Ahbez,
Moebius,
Panda Bear,
The Monks,
Monks,
Franke,
Jesper Dahlback,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Mojo Men,
Crispian St. Peters,
Brothers Johnson,
The Searchers,
Jeru the Damaja,
Easy Going,
Black Flag,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Boredoms,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Tim Buckley,
Prince Buster,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fugazi,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Au Pairs,
The Alarm Clocks,
Jerry's Kids,
Amon Düül,
Ornette Coleman,
Lindisfarne,
Livin' Joy,
Godley & Creme,
Crispy Ambulance,
Warsaw,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Dennis Brown,
PIL, PIL, PIL, PIL.
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.