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 Malawi and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1967 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Jakarta.
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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Ralphi Rosario to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Dorothy Ashby. All the underground hits.
All Fat Boys tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Doobie Brothers record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 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 Piero Umiliani record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Carl Craig,
Scientists,
Heaven 17,
Harry Pussy,
Talk Talk,
Bad Manners,
John Foxx,
The Misunderstood,
Judy Mowatt,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Aural Exciters,
the Slits,
Reagan Youth,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Martian,
Michelle Simonal,
The Cramps,
Ossler,
Erasure,
Procol Harum,
Tubeway Army,
Kenny Larkin,
OOIOO,
The Victims,
KRS-One,
Depeche Mode,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Jawbox,
Banda Bassotti,
Fear,
Ponytail,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Intrusion,
Tropical Tobacco,
Aaron Thompson,
Ten City,
F. McDonald,
Mo-Dettes,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Toni Rubio,
Eric B and Rakim,
B.T. Express,
Byron Stingily,
The Doors,
Monks,
The Smiths,
Oneida,
Throbbing Gristle,
Alison Limerick,
kango's stein massive,
The Gories,
Circle Jerks,
The Golliwogs,
Ken Boothe,
Marvin Gaye,
Technova,
Franke,
Schoolly D,
Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee, Spoonie Gee.
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.