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 Ethiopia and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1969 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed 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 Bill Wells to the electroclash 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 The Peanut Butter Conspiracy. All the underground hits.
All Neil Young tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Johnny Clarke 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Excepter,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Roger Hodgson,
KRS-One,
Bauhaus,
Barbara Tucker,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Bill Wells,
Crime,
The Vogues,
Pantaleimon,
Grauzone,
Agitation Free,
The Fire Engines,
Young Marble Giants,
Cybotron,
Newcleus,
The Busters,
The Residents,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Music Machine,
John Cale,
Malaria!,
Spoonie Gee,
Moby Grape,
Lower 48,
Kerrie Biddell,
Sarah Menescal,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Warsaw,
Khruangbin,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Crispy Ambulance,
the Fania All-Stars,
Rufus Thomas,
Youth Brigade,
Graham Central Station,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Mission of Burma,
Sight & Sound,
Derrick Morgan,
Sixth Finger,
D'Angelo,
Prince Buster,
Hoover,
The Saints,
Carl Craig,
Tom Boy,
Rod Modell,
Procol Harum,
The Five Americans,
Aural Exciters,
Marcia Griffiths,
Rosa Yemen,
Fela Kuti,
Gang Starr,
Agent Orange,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Yusef Lateef,
Fad Gadget,
Ten City,
Ken Boothe,
Mary Jane Girls,
Johnny Clarke,
Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force.
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.