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 Congo and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 2001.
I was there at the first Tiga show in Montreal.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Holger Czukay 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 Newcleus to the rap kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Rites of Spring. All the underground hits.
All Sugar Minott tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Guru Guru 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Beasts of Bourbon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sexual Harrassment,
The Kinks,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Techniques,
Underground Resistance,
Hoover,
The Birthday Party,
X-Ray Spex,
FM Einheit,
The Selecter,
The Fuzztones,
Davy DMX,
The Sound,
Mark Hollis,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Moody Blues,
Cymande,
Camouflage,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Al Stewart,
Neil Young,
New Age Steppers,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Alton Ellis,
Gang Green,
Saccharine Trust,
Television Personalities,
Tropical Tobacco,
Smog,
The Saints,
Deepchord,
Alice Coltrane,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Oblivians,
Sonny Sharrock,
MC5,
Excepter,
Jerry's Kids,
Nick Fraelich,
John Holt,
Vainqueur,
Infiniti,
Pylon,
Derrick Morgan,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
The Smiths,
Eyeless In Gaza,
The Human League,
The Detroit Cobras,
Kurtis Blow,
Delon & Dalcan,
The Dave Clark Five,
Marcia Griffiths,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lightning Bolt,
Peter & Gordon,
JFA,
8 Eyed Spy,
UT,
Eric B and Rakim,
Pole, Pole, Pole, Pole.
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.