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 Cambodia and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 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 Avey Tare to the disco 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 Harry Pussy. All the underground hits.
All Morten Harket tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rufus Thomas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 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 Sam Rivers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Guru Guru,
Ultimate Spinach,
Alice Coltrane,
Roxy Music,
Idris Muhammad,
Nick Fraelich,
Eurythmics,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Black Moon,
The Offenders,
Sexual Harrassment,
Slave,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Inner City,
Albert Ayler,
Flash Fearless,
Skriet,
Sparks,
Ituana,
Faraquet,
Scratch Acid,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Sister Nancy,
The American Breed,
Bauhaus,
Bobby Womack,
Man Eating Sloth,
Bill Wells,
Angry Samoans,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Busters,
Accadde A,
Matthew Bourne,
Scrapy,
The Cure,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Slits,
Deakin,
Arcadia,
Sixth Finger,
Toni Rubio,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
48th St. Collective,
Easy Going,
Peter and Kerry,
Panda Bear,
Graham Central Station,
Pulsallama,
The Fall,
Moby Grape,
John Cale,
Dark Day,
Magma,
Kayak,
Underground Resistance,
The Standells,
The Zeros,
The Fortunes,
Magazine,
Main Source,
The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges, The Stooges.
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.