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 the UAE and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Hong Kong.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 1965 at the first Beefheart practice in a loft in Lancaster.
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 Carl Craig to the disco kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Lungfish. All the underground hits.
All The Mummies tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Nation of Ulysses 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 linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mr. Review record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mad Mike,
Bill Near,
Neil Young,
Dorothy Ashby,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Peter & Gordon,
Silicon Teens,
Heaven 17,
The Fall,
Public Image Ltd.,
The Vogues,
John Foxx,
Nils Olav,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Eric B and Rakim,
Moby Grape,
Graham Central Station,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Connie Case,
Masters at Work,
Mission of Burma,
Roy Ayers,
Das Ding,
Rakim,
the Bar-Kays,
The Moleskins,
Sun Ra,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Soft Cell,
Arcadia,
Eric Dolphy,
The Beau Brummels,
Charles Mingus,
The Leaves,
Joey Negro,
Cheater Slicks,
New York Dolls,
Robert Wyatt,
Monolake,
The Fire Engines,
Ultra Naté,
Eden Ahbez,
The Neon Judgement,
Jeff Lynne,
Thee Headcoats,
Model 500,
Wally Richardson,
Ralphi Rosario,
Saccharine Trust,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Blake Baxter,
Goldenarms,
New Order,
Q65,
Lyres,
The Five Americans,
The Star Department,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.