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 Angola and from Lagos.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Bobby Byrd to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Little Man. All the underground hits.
All Marmalade tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eric B and Rakim 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a F. McDonald record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Flag,
Absolute Body Control,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ultravox,
the Human League,
Surgeon,
the Fania All-Stars,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Velvet Underground,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
the Soft Cell,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Nik Kershaw,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
The Dirtbombs,
Soul II Soul,
The Flesh Eaters,
Subhumans,
Maurizio,
Frankie Knuckles,
Roxy Music,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Neon Judgement,
Rapeman,
Girls At Our Best!,
Can,
The Mojo Men,
Schoolly D,
Dave Gahan,
Quadrant,
Gang Starr,
Peter and Kerry,
Gabor Szabo,
Tomorrow,
Skriet,
Kayak,
Amazonics,
Moss Icon,
Au Pairs,
The Seeds,
Dorothy Ashby,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Parry Music,
Isaac Hayes,
New Order,
Kerrie Biddell,
Letta Mbulu,
Jacob Miller,
Unwound,
Royal Trux,
The Names,
John Foxx,
Mark Hollis,
Lou Reed,
Brick,
The Cramps,
Average White Band,
a-ha,
Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now, Camberwell Now.
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.