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 New Zealand and from Manchester.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Glasgow.
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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the sitar 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 Joe Smooth to the punk kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All The Slackers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gang Green record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lonnie Liston Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fela Kuti,
Magma,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Pagans,
Pere Ubu,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Faust,
Ludus,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Basic Channel,
Marvin Gaye,
Spandau Ballet,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Golliwogs,
Lungfish,
Oneida,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Sonic Youth,
Can,
The J.B.'s,
Liliput,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
the Bar-Kays,
Make Up,
Alison Limerick,
MC5,
Gang of Four,
Underground Resistance,
Yusef Lateef,
Drexciya,
Khruangbin,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Skaos,
Stiv Bators,
The Misunderstood,
John Coltrane,
Boredoms,
Bootsy Collins,
Nico,
Boz Scaggs,
Nick Fraelich,
The Blackbyrds,
KRS-One,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Techniques,
Symarip,
Bill Wells,
Chrome,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Massinfluence,
Crime,
Guru Guru,
Pantytec,
The Names,
X-102,
World's Most,
FM Einheit,
Sugar Minott,
China Crisis,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Mr. Review,
Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu, Erykah Badu.
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.