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 Palau and from Madrid.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mumbai and Spokane.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Gerry Rafferty to the grunge 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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All Roy Ayers Ubiquity tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 linndrum and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Kevin Saunderson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
The Searchers,
Marc Almond,
Lakeside,
Fat Boys,
Kenny Larkin,
Average White Band,
Kevin Saunderson,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Fortunes,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Heaven 17,
Gerry Rafferty,
Pagans,
Black Moon,
R.M.O.,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Moss Icon,
Danielle Patucci,
Peter & Gordon,
Chris & Cosey,
Sight & Sound,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Buzzcocks,
Warsaw,
Max Romeo,
Ponytail,
London Community Gospel Choir,
PIL,
Cluster,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Lebanon Hanover,
John Lydon,
Albert Ayler,
David Axelrod,
Procol Harum,
the Swans,
Scott Walker,
Half Japanese,
Lou Christie,
Crispian St. Peters,
Pulsallama,
the Association,
Gang Starr,
The Dave Clark Five,
MDC,
Amon Düül,
Eddi Front,
The Fire Engines,
Nils Olav,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Sun City Girls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
the Slits,
Outsiders,
Bill Wells,
Rhythm & Sound,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
The Moody Blues,
Marcia Griffiths,
Television,
Bill Near,
Country Teasers,
A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls, A Flock of Seagulls.
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.