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 Uzbekistan and from Beijing.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 synthesizer 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 Kenny Larkin to the rap 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 The Slackers. All the underground hits.
All Kool G Rap & DJ Polo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Juan Atkins 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Japan,
Oneida,
Unwound,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Intrusion,
These Immortal Souls,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Black Flag,
Hoover,
Bobby Byrd,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Todd Terry,
The Index,
Bad Manners,
Quantec,
Dead Boys,
Patti Smith,
Lindisfarne,
Cluster,
The Kinks,
Radiopuhelimet,
Flash Fearless,
Model 500,
Fugazi,
Skaos,
The Sonics,
Black Sheep,
The Beau Brummels,
Gichy Dan,
Crispian St. Peters,
Darondo,
Alice Coltrane,
Peter and Kerry,
Moby Grape,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Count Five,
The Tremeloes,
Jacques Brel,
Ohio Players,
Echospace,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Jandek,
Mr. Review,
Simply Red,
Electric Prunes,
Arthur Verocai,
Circle Jerks,
Basic Channel,
Cheater Slicks,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Suicide,
Negative Approach,
This Heat,
F. McDonald,
Ten City,
Charles Mingus,
Prince Buster,
Freddie Wadling,
EPMD,
Moss Icon,
The Doors,
John Lydon,
Masters at Work,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.