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 Ivory Coast and from Copenhagen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the organ 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 Bootsy's Rubber Band to the grime kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Sandy B. All the underground hits.
All Wasted Youth tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Procol Harum 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sound Behaviour record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Das Ding,
The Electric Prunes,
Talk Talk,
Interpol,
Man Parrish,
Simply Red,
Eric Dolphy,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Five Americans,
the Slits,
New York Dolls,
Electric Prunes,
The Grass Roots,
The Moleskins,
Tropical Tobacco,
Maurizio,
The Fugs,
T. Rex,
Jeff Mills,
Danielle Patucci,
Roger Hodgson,
the Normal,
Delta 5,
Deepchord,
T.S.O.L.,
Eve St. Jones,
Faraquet,
Jerry's Kids,
Lucky Dragons,
Black Flag,
Lakeside,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Chris Corsano,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tubeway Army,
Traffic Nightmare,
David Axelrod,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sun City Girls,
Marmalade,
Big Daddy Kane,
Bronski Beat,
Mr. Review,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Mad Mike,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Malaria!,
Althea and Donna,
The Durutti Column,
Prince Buster,
The Kinks,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Main Source,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The Busters,
Pere Ubu,
Gang Starr,
Glenn Branca,
The Victims,
F. McDonald,
Jacob Miller,
Soul Sonic Force,
Echospace, Echospace, Echospace, Echospace.
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.