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 Egypt and from Winnipeg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Kool G Rap & DJ Polo to the grime kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Wolf Eyes. All the underground hits.
All The Misunderstood tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Yellowson 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minny Pops record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Juan Atkins,
The Techniques,
These Immortal Souls,
Stereo Dub,
Oblivians,
Mo-Dettes,
Grey Daturas,
Robert Görl,
Tomorrow,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Rakim,
Jesper Dahlback,
Toni Rubio,
Supertramp,
the Fania All-Stars,
Dawn Penn,
Buzzcocks,
Donald Byrd,
John Coltrane,
Tres Demented,
Tropical Tobacco,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Toasters,
H. Thieme,
a-ha,
Brick,
Deepchord,
Arcadia,
Max Romeo,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
The Wake,
the Association,
Funkadelic,
Black Pus,
Surgeon,
Letta Mbulu,
Gabor Szabo,
The Selecter,
Deakin,
The Fortunes,
Angry Samoans,
The Raincoats,
The Skatalites,
Albert Ayler,
The Velvet Underground,
Crime,
Newcleus,
The Dave Clark Five,
Tommy Roe,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Don Cherry,
Gang Green,
KRS-One,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Flipper,
Arthur Verocai,
Whodini,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Mummies,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.