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 Egypt and from Lagos.
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 1963 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 The Evens 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 Vainqueur. All the underground hits.
All Pylon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Harry Pussy 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 harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Goldenarms record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
The Residents,
New York Dolls,
Stetsasonic,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Darondo,
The Busters,
The Misunderstood,
Angry Samoans,
Ultravox,
The Music Machine,
Minnie Riperton,
Sparks,
Kevin Saunderson,
The Moody Blues,
Ken Boothe,
Crispy Ambulance,
The Fuzztones,
Bobby Byrd,
Dark Day,
Public Image Ltd.,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Todd Terry,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
kango's stein massive,
Brass Construction,
ABC,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Marcia Griffiths,
Flipper,
Eric Dolphy,
Loose Ends,
Graham Central Station,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Drexciya,
Terry Callier,
Kayak,
Scion,
The Slits,
Black Pus,
Dual Sessions,
Shoche,
Pharoah Sanders,
Nirvana,
The Kinks,
Ohio Players,
Lungfish,
Marshall Jefferson,
Nico,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Al Stewart,
Motorama,
Television Personalities,
John Holt,
Marmalade,
Roy Ayers,
Albert Ayler,
Arcadia,
the Normal,
Panda Bear,
Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker, Scott Walker.
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.