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 Qatar and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Ubu show in Cleveland.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 marimba 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 Robert Görl to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Lizzy Mercier Descloux. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Young Marble Giants record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
The Golliwogs,
Popol Vuh,
Tommy Roe,
Barrington Levy,
Terrestrial Tones,
Neil Young,
Be Bop Deluxe,
The Divine Comedy,
Cybotron,
The Dead C,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Byron Stingily,
Ken Boothe,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Khruangbin,
DJ Sneak,
Roxy Music,
Gregory Isaacs,
Mad Mike,
Avey Tare,
Marcia Griffiths,
the Normal,
Nas,
Magma,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
The Stooges,
The Neon Judgement,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Girls At Our Best!,
Second Layer,
Main Source,
Kenny Larkin,
Delon & Dalcan,
Alice Coltrane,
Surgeon,
The United States of America,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Dave Gahan,
Sparks,
Jacob Miller,
One Last Wish,
The Trojans,
Scientists,
Harry Pussy,
Niagra,
AZ,
L. Decosne,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Associates,
The Doobie Brothers,
kango's stein massive,
Das Ding,
Todd Rundgren,
Bluetip,
Cecil Taylor,
Laurel Aitken,
Crash Course in Science,
Organ,
Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz, Heavy D & The Boyz.
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.