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 Georgia and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 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 Avey Tare to the grunge kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 the Fania All-Stars. All the underground hits.
All Sun City Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Animal Collective record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Unwound,
Dorothy Ashby,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Country Teasers,
Camouflage,
Clear Light,
CMW,
Royal Trux,
Scientists,
The Selecter,
Y Pants,
Stiv Bators,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Lebanon Hanover,
the Soft Cell,
The Gap Band,
MDC,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Little Man,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kerrie Biddell,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sugar Minott,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Subhumans,
Harmonia,
Television,
Rekid,
The Monks,
Matthew Bourne,
Trumans Water,
Crime,
Arcadia,
Los Fastidios,
Skarface,
Fad Gadget,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Johnny Clarke,
Nirvana,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Circle Jerks,
Bobby Byrd,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
La Düsseldorf,
Main Source,
Slick Rick,
Todd Rundgren,
Arab on Radar,
Judy Mowatt,
T. Rex,
H. Thieme,
The Angels of Light,
Rapeman,
Crispian St. Peters,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Das Ding,
The Beau Brummels,
Saccharine Trust,
Sparks,
Interpol,
John Lydon,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks.
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.