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 Algeria and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the organ 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 Mary Jane Girls 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 Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic. All the underground hits.
All Frankie Knuckles tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 808 and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Youth Brigade,
Franke,
Deadbeat,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
8 Eyed Spy,
EPMD,
Marc Almond,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ultimate Spinach,
The Gories,
The Associates,
The Techniques,
Blancmange,
Bill Near,
Boredoms,
Organ,
Little Man,
Arcadia,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Section 25,
The Kinks,
Ralphi Rosario,
Lucky Dragons,
Darondo,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Johnny Osbourne,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Fugazi,
Slick Rick,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Whodini,
Mark Hollis,
Lou Christie,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Con Funk Shun,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Bob Dylan,
Khruangbin,
Bobby Womack,
Black Pus,
Joyce Sims,
Dorothy Ashby,
Alphaville,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Fat Boys,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sällskapet,
Surgeon,
Sun City Girls,
Index,
The Skatalites,
Terry Callier,
Gil Scott Heron,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Funkadelic,
Main Source,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
the Germs,
Kerrie Biddell,
Oblivians,
The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids, The Real Kids.
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.