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 Korea South and from New York.
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 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 güiro 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the grunge 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 Bobby Hutcherson. All the underground hits.
All Harpers Bizarre tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Black Moon record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Metal Thangz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Swell Maps,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Happenings,
Colin Newman,
In Retrospect,
KRS-One,
Hot Snakes,
Cymande,
The Slits,
Eden Ahbez,
Peter and Kerry,
Stockholm Monsters,
Lyres,
Underground Resistance,
Dead Boys,
Byron Stingily,
Intrusion,
Tim Buckley,
Electric Prunes,
The Sonics,
Pere Ubu,
Michelle Simonal,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Fugs,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Symarip,
Blancmange,
Sugar Minott,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Juan Atkins,
Amon Düül II,
Blossom Toes,
Niagra,
Man Parrish,
Gang Starr,
Make Up,
Black Flag,
The Dead C,
T. Rex,
Bootsy Collins,
Fluxion,
the Slits,
Cecil Taylor,
Leonard Cohen,
Funkadelic,
Severed Heads,
Jimmy McGriff,
Japan,
Grandmaster Flash,
Country Teasers,
Con Funk Shun,
Basic Channel,
China Crisis,
Alice Coltrane,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Mo-Dettes,
Harpers Bizarre,
James White and The Blacks,
Johnny Clarke,
Sparks,
Au Pairs,
Theoretical Girls,
UT, UT, UT, UT.
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.