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 Tanzania and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1980.
I was there at the first Cybotron show in Detroit.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Hong Kong 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Blake Baxter to the dance 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 Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Ronan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Doobie Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jeru the Damaja,
The Gun Club,
T. Rex,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pharoah Sanders,
Ohio Players,
Sonny Sharrock,
Funkadelic,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Leonard Cohen,
The Detroit Cobras,
Japan,
Livin' Joy,
X-Ray Spex,
Gang Starr,
MC5,
DeepChord presents Echospace,
Kenny Larkin,
Surgeon,
Stereo Dub,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Sam Rivers,
Television,
Mandrill,
Q65,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tim Buckley,
The Monks,
AZ,
The Skatalites,
Matthew Halsall,
Pole,
Hoover,
New Order,
Yellowson,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Infiniti,
Alphaville,
Big Daddy Kane,
Fugazi,
Frankie Knuckles,
Charles Mingus,
Simply Red,
Niagra,
Pere Ubu,
Wally Richardson,
Roger Hodgson,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Royal Trux,
Byron Stingily,
Suburban Knight,
DNA,
The Monochrome Set,
ABC,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
The Young Rascals,
Make Up,
The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds, The Seeds.
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.