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 Micronesia and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 arpeggiator 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 Piero Umiliani to the dance kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Skriet. All the underground hits.
All Stockholm Monsters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dennis Brown 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Dennis Brown record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hot Snakes,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Newcleus,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Litter,
Connie Case,
cv313,
James Chance & The Contortions,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Sexual Harrassment,
T. Rex,
June Days,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Red Krayola,
Wire,
Charles Mingus,
Eli Mardock,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Donny Hathaway,
Moebius,
Buzzcocks,
Chrome,
Radiopuhelimet,
U.S. Maple,
Kenny Larkin,
Lyres,
The Cramps,
Amon Düül II,
the Association,
Matthew Halsall,
Bronski Beat,
Lou Christie,
Livin' Joy,
The Skatalites,
Deadbeat,
Tubeway Army,
Fear,
The Names,
The Young Rascals,
Slave,
Electric Light Orchestra,
T.S.O.L.,
Boz Scaggs,
Prince Buster,
The Moleskins,
The Music Machine,
Laurel Aitken,
Pole,
Blake Baxter,
DNA,
Bill Wells,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Flesh Eaters,
Camouflage,
8 Eyed Spy,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The Raincoats,
Mandrill,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Underground Resistance,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Toasters,
Skriet,
Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub, Stereo Dub.
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.