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 Taiwan and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston 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 808 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 Gil Scott Heron 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 Bizarre Inc.. All the underground hits.
All Sun Ra tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Laurel Aitken record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Junior Murvin record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Duran Duran,
Angry Samoans,
Sex Pistols,
Cecil Taylor,
E-Dancer,
The Human League,
Lalann,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Yellowson,
In Retrospect,
Wings,
Lyres,
Peter and Kerry,
David Axelrod,
Guru Guru,
Barry Ungar,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Rapeman,
The Cramps,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Kevin Saunderson,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Fortunes,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
MDC,
Kayak,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Symarip,
Second Layer,
Kerrie Biddell,
F. McDonald,
D'Angelo,
Ronnie Foster,
Spoonie Gee,
Alton Ellis,
Harry Pussy,
The Fire Engines,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Derrick May,
The Barracudas,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Wolf Eyes,
Scratch Acid,
Adolescents,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Dirtbombs,
The Fugs,
The Fall,
Circle Jerks,
These Immortal Souls,
Letta Mbulu,
Sixth Finger,
Pagans,
Bobby Byrd,
Roger Hodgson,
Faust,
Popol Vuh,
Alice Coltrane,
Mark Hollis,
Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms, Boredoms.
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.