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 Cameroon and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Winnipeg.
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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Eric B and Rakim to the crunk 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 Rufus Thomas. All the underground hits.
All Sam Rivers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Dead C record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a 8 Eyed Spy record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ten City,
Marine Girls,
Avey Tare,
Joe Smooth,
Pagans,
Darondo,
The Grass Roots,
Vladislav Delay,
The Cramps,
Eric Dolphy,
Main Source,
Al Stewart,
Lucky Dragons,
Drexciya,
Eli Mardock,
Nik Kershaw,
Wally Richardson,
The Moody Blues,
48th St. Collective,
The Doors,
Radiopuhelimet,
Livin' Joy,
Sugar Minott,
Half Japanese,
Cluster,
Pere Ubu,
Deakin,
Pet Shop Boys,
Television,
Public Enemy,
Fluxion,
Crime,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Scott Walker,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Victims,
John Holt,
Throbbing Gristle,
Marc Almond,
Au Pairs,
The Busters,
Radiohead,
U.S. Maple,
Sandy B,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Bill Wells,
Aloha Tigers,
Boredoms,
Traffic Nightmare,
The American Breed,
Malaria!,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Yellowson,
Soul II Soul,
Massinfluence,
Jeff Mills,
Funkadelic,
Bad Manners,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Stockholm Monsters,
Electric Prunes,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell, Kerrie Biddell.
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.