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 Brunei and from Mexico City.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Bobby Hutcherson to the funk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Henry Cow. All the underground hits.
All Cecil Taylor tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Birthday Party 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Deadbeat record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eddi Front,
the Germs,
Schoolly D,
Erasure,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Smiths,
Alphaville,
Moby Grape,
The Slackers,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Henry Cow,
Moss Icon,
the Bar-Kays,
James White and The Blacks,
World's Most,
Index,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The American Breed,
These Immortal Souls,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Camberwell Now,
Todd Terry,
Radio Birdman,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
U.S. Maple,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Visage,
Crooked Eye,
Quadrant,
Brass Construction,
The Beau Brummels,
The Birthday Party,
Peter and Kerry,
Darondo,
Glambeats Corp.,
Minny Pops,
Animal Collective,
Cabaret Voltaire,
The Victims,
cv313,
Basic Channel,
Skaos,
Boredoms,
Agitation Free,
Black Moon,
The Busters,
Black Bananas,
Lou Reed,
Sparks,
John Coltrane,
Ralphi Rosario,
Severed Heads,
The Zeros,
The Doobie Brothers,
Joensuu 1685,
The Pop Group,
Michelle Simonal,
Aaron Thompson,
Ossler,
Faust,
Wolf Eyes,
Yellowson,
The Real Kids,
Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne, Matthew Bourne.
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.