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 Korea South and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 1983 at the first Lewis practice in a loft in Vancouver.
I was working on the snare 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 Eve St. Jones to the grime kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 R.M.O.. All the underground hits.
All Au Pairs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sugar Minott record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sällskapet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ohio Players,
48th St. Collective,
The Fortunes,
Ralphi Rosario,
Bootsy Collins,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Kenny Larkin,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Roy Ayers,
Zapp,
The Modern Lovers,
Motorama,
Technova,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Deepchord,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Lalann,
Country Teasers,
The Durutti Column,
Bizarre Inc.,
Rufus Thomas,
Mad Mike,
Terry Callier,
The Slackers,
Bobby Womack,
Youth Brigade,
Kerrie Biddell,
Eddi Front,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Simply Red,
Royal Trux,
Sun City Girls,
Derrick May,
Parry Music,
Josef K,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Mighty Diamonds,
The Skatalites,
Susan Cadogan,
The Detroit Cobras,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
the Bar-Kays,
Sparks,
Stiv Bators,
Harry Pussy,
The Associates,
Fugazi,
Suburban Knight,
Tropical Tobacco,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Pole,
The Fall,
Anthony Braxton,
The American Breed,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Joey Negro,
The Stooges,
Swell Maps,
Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra, Sun Ra.
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.