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 Angola and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Tehran.
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 808 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 Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog to the grunge kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Hot Snakes. All the underground hits.
All John Holt tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Jawbox,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Max Romeo,
Moby Grape,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
T. Rex,
L. Decosne,
Guru Guru,
Yusef Lateef,
Popol Vuh,
The Saints,
Henry Cow,
Moss Icon,
ABBA,
Darondo,
U.S. Maple,
Flash Fearless,
Bang On A Can,
Eve St. Jones,
Audionom,
David Axelrod,
Connie Case,
the Human League,
The Wake,
Pylon,
The Buckinghams,
Saccharine Trust,
Whodini,
Arab on Radar,
Freddie Wadling,
Althea and Donna,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
The Blues Magoos,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Lindisfarne,
the Soft Cell,
Cecil Taylor,
Ultravox,
Camberwell Now,
Glenn Branca,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Fortunes,
Stereo Dub,
Shoche,
The Detroit Cobras,
Swell Maps,
Sam Rivers,
Frankie Knuckles,
Severed Heads,
Anthony Braxton,
The Fuzztones,
Marmalade,
Tres Demented,
Stockholm Monsters,
Kenny Larkin,
Aaron Thompson,
Cal Tjader,
The Slackers,
Amazonics,
The Modern Lovers,
Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs, Au Pairs.
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.