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 Belize and from Accra.
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 1961 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and Sao Paulo.
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 spring reverb 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 Brass Construction to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Alice Coltrane. All the underground hits.
All Mary Jane Girls tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Barracudas record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Altered Images record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Warren Ellis,
Marvin Gaye,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Blancmange,
Rakim,
Royal Trux,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Smoke,
The Detroit Cobras,
CMW,
The Motions,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Skriet,
Lucky Dragons,
Negative Approach,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Wake,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Victims,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
UT,
The Velvet Underground,
Main Source,
Suicide,
Eli Mardock,
Jeff Mills,
The Blackbyrds,
Scientists,
Depeche Mode,
Robert Wyatt,
D'Angelo,
The Saints,
Kenny Larkin,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Organ,
Letta Mbulu,
The Human League,
Marcia Griffiths,
Bobby Womack,
The Alarm Clocks,
Fat Boys,
The Monks,
Unrelated Segments,
Intrusion,
Man Eating Sloth,
Sonic Youth,
The Kinks,
The Move,
Idris Muhammad,
The Gories,
Fad Gadget,
Rufus Thomas,
The Index,
Althea and Donna,
the Normal,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Whodini, Whodini, Whodini, Whodini.
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.