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 Djibouti and from Hong Kong.
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 1966 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 synthesizer 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 Sly & The Family Stone to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Music Machine. All the underground hits.
All the Association tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fluxion 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mission of Burma record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
T.S.O.L.,
Soul II Soul,
The Cowsills,
The Durutti Column,
Robert Hood,
The Detroit Cobras,
Ralphi Rosario,
Slave,
Judy Mowatt,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Mojo Men,
Saccharine Trust,
Kerri Chandler,
Bobby Womack,
Panda Bear,
Infiniti,
World's Most,
Young Marble Giants,
Ituana,
Model 500,
Harry Pussy,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Animal Collective,
Deadbeat,
Guru Guru,
Cal Tjader,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
The Pop Group,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Lebanon Hanover,
The Gap Band,
Rakim,
Zero Boys,
Graham Central Station,
Brand Nubian,
Freddie Wadling,
Fat Boys,
Eve St. Jones,
Idris Muhammad,
The Mummies,
Mo-Dettes,
Average White Band,
The Stooges,
Bush Tetras,
The Divine Comedy,
Hot Snakes,
Sparks,
X-102,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Kinks,
Cheater Slicks,
Kayak,
Fatback Band,
Suicide,
Joe Smooth,
The Electric Prunes,
Bauhaus,
Minor Threat,
Ten City,
Blossom Toes,
Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange, Agent Orange.
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.