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 Mauritius and from Paris.
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 1968 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 theremin 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 Mr. Review to the dance kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Jacques Brel. All the underground hits.
All The Chocolate Watch Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sonic Youth record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Country Teasers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Flesh Eaters,
Spandau Ballet,
Gil Scott Heron,
Henry Cow,
a-ha,
Duran Duran,
Cecil Taylor,
The Detroit Cobras,
Suicide,
Khruangbin,
Kaleidoscope,
Country Teasers,
The Stooges,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Mojo Men,
Reagan Youth,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Terry Callier,
Can,
Rod Modell,
Wings,
Sound Behaviour,
Technova,
Don Cherry,
U.S. Maple,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Index,
Unrelated Segments,
The Last Poets,
the Germs,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Quadrant,
Peter & Gordon,
Fluxion,
Kayak,
In Retrospect,
R.M.O.,
Cybotron,
Talk Talk,
Matthew Bourne,
The Residents,
Alphaville,
Stockholm Monsters,
Jandek,
Sonic Youth,
Jesper Dahlback,
the Sonics,
Wasted Youth,
Eric Dolphy,
James White and The Blacks,
Heaven 17,
ABBA,
Matthew Halsall,
Tom Boy,
Youth Brigade,
Ice-T,
Stereo Dub,
EPMD,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Connie Case,
Liliput,
Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw, Warsaw.
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.