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 Guinea and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Paris 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 güiro 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 Red Lorry Yellow Lorry to the funk 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 Johnny Clarke. All the underground hits.
All Bluetip tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 chamberlin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Grandmaster Flash record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Slick Rick,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Robert Wyatt,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Eli Mardock,
Amazonics,
Barbara Tucker,
Ornette Coleman,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Selecter,
The Vogues,
Thee Headcoats,
The Doors,
Letta Mbulu,
The Velvet Underground,
Morten Harket,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mandrill,
Alton Ellis,
Delon & Dalcan,
Sparks,
The Evens,
Mars,
In Retrospect,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
The Residents,
E-Dancer,
Faraquet,
Josef K,
Boredoms,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Flesh Eaters,
Negative Approach,
Byron Stingily,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Mummies,
Neil Young,
Joey Negro,
Gil Scott Heron,
Severed Heads,
Danielle Patucci,
Michelle Simonal,
Lucky Dragons,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Gang Gang Dance,
CMW,
B.T. Express,
Liliput,
Peter and Kerry,
Sister Nancy,
The Divine Comedy,
Los Fastidios,
The Grass Roots,
Brass Construction,
Soft Cell,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Tomorrow,
Rosa Yemen,
Livin' Joy,
Marine Girls,
the Normal,
Jimmy McGriff,
Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic, Funkadelic.
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.