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 Bangladesh and from Glasgow.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1960 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Gastr Del Sol to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Flipper. All the underground hits.
All The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Aural Exciters 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Black Moon record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blossom Toes,
E-Dancer,
Deepchord,
Dave Gahan,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Minor Threat,
The Five Americans,
Thee Headcoats,
Masters at Work,
Panda Bear,
Delon & Dalcan,
Cymande,
Porter Ricks,
Sandy B,
ABC,
The New Christs,
Average White Band,
Warren Ellis,
Shoche,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Doors,
Throbbing Gristle,
Don Cherry,
Spoonie Gee,
Gastr Del Sol,
Rod Modell,
Steve Hackett,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Hasil Adkins,
F. McDonald,
One Last Wish,
The Golliwogs,
Sällskapet,
X-Ray Spex,
Cybotron,
The Birthday Party,
the Swans,
Groovy Waters,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Monolake,
Bronski Beat,
The Motions,
Barrington Levy,
Country Teasers,
Jeff Mills,
Aloha Tigers,
Fat Boys,
Eric Dolphy,
Bang On A Can,
La Düsseldorf,
Robert Hood,
A Certain Ratio,
Half Japanese,
Minnie Riperton,
Patti Smith,
Nico,
Pantytec,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Tremeloes,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane, Alice Coltrane.
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.