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 Gabon and from Accra.
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 1966 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Manchester.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Pharoah Sanders to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Tears for Fears tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Residents record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 guitar and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cabaret Voltaire record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Toni Rubio,
The Sonics,
Sonny Sharrock,
Quadrant,
Tom Boy,
Donald Byrd,
Loose Ends,
The Busters,
The Human League,
Das Ding,
Marine Girls,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Joensuu 1685,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Flesh Eaters,
Roy Ayers,
Flash Fearless,
R.M.O.,
Fatback Band,
Radio Birdman,
Dave Gahan,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
The Smoke,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Warsaw,
Glambeats Corp.,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Moss Icon,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sex Pistols,
Khruangbin,
Leonard Cohen,
Flamin' Groovies,
Can,
Tubeway Army,
The Index,
Second Layer,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Gang Gang Dance,
Jeff Mills,
Sixth Finger,
Reagan Youth,
Spoonie Gee,
Michelle Simonal,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Funky Four + One,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Reuben Wilson,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
The Star Department,
Kurtis Blow,
Mission of Burma,
Yusef Lateef,
Josef K,
Suicide,
The Saints,
Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti, Banda Bassotti.
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.