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 Mongolia and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 harpsichord 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 The Residents to the grime 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 China Crisis. All the underground hits.
All David Bowie tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Robert Wyatt record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Lakeside,
Curtis Mayfield,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
The Black Dice,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Selecter,
Schoolly D,
Morten Harket,
EPMD,
The Zeros,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nils Olav,
The United States of America,
Second Layer,
Scratch Acid,
The Fuzztones,
Yazoo,
The Sound,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
48th St. Collective,
Josef K,
Reuben Wilson,
Aaron Thompson,
the Human League,
Rekid,
Wings,
Howard Jones,
Negative Approach,
DNA,
kango's stein massive,
Warren Ellis,
The Residents,
Cymande,
Isaac Hayes,
The Happenings,
Rites of Spring,
Eve St. Jones,
Hardrive,
The Buckinghams,
The Birthday Party,
Procol Harum,
Rotary Connection,
Jimmy McGriff,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Nation of Ulysses,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marvin Gaye,
Mantronix,
The Young Rascals,
Cybotron,
Kevin Saunderson,
Young Marble Giants,
Marc Almond,
Cecil Taylor,
Porter Ricks,
Harry Pussy,
Tropical Tobacco,
Faust,
The Detroit Cobras,
Absolute Body Control,
Oneida, Oneida, Oneida, Oneida.
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.