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 United States and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manila and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Rekid to the grunge 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 Sonny Sharrock. All the underground hits.
All Nils Olav tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Angels of Light record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cheater Slicks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Black Moon,
Eric Dolphy,
Blossom Toes,
The Mojo Men,
Stiv Bators,
Blake Baxter,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
The Toasters,
Spandau Ballet,
The Human League,
Deepchord,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Big Daddy Kane,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Niagra,
Marmalade,
Youth Brigade,
The Skatalites,
Dark Day,
The Last Poets,
Crispy Ambulance,
Fad Gadget,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Man Parrish,
Rod Modell,
Groovy Waters,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Detroit Cobras,
Warren Ellis,
Brand Nubian,
China Crisis,
Sugar Minott,
Skriet,
the Soft Cell,
T. Rex,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Count Five,
Matthew Halsall,
The Fall,
Alice Coltrane,
Vladislav Delay,
Michelle Simonal,
Magma,
Electric Prunes,
Radio Birdman,
the Slits,
Slick Rick,
Marvin Gaye,
Sam Rivers,
Joy Division,
Jacques Brel,
Masters at Work,
Joe Smooth,
Massinfluence,
New Age Steppers,
Sonic Youth,
The Selecter,
Lebanon Hanover,
Amazonics,
The Smoke,
Marcia Griffiths,
Sun City Girls,
Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd., Public Image Ltd..
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.