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 Guyana and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Big Star show in Memphis.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Ken Boothe to the crunk 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 The Men They Couldn't Hang. All the underground hits.
All The Busters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pharoah Sanders record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 rhodes and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Alarm Clocks,
LL Cool J,
Agent Orange,
Archie Shepp,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Warsaw,
Newcleus,
The Moleskins,
Section 25,
The Mojo Men,
Todd Terry,
Deepchord,
The Happenings,
Alice Coltrane,
Theoretical Girls,
Lyres,
Heaven 17,
Big Daddy Kane,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Patti Smith,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Black Pus,
UT,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Yaz,
Erykah Badu,
Oblivians,
Soulsonic Force,
Franke,
Oneida,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
David Bowie,
Au Pairs,
The Slits,
Janne Schatter,
F. McDonald,
Bill Near,
The Saints,
The Busters,
Kaleidoscope,
Faust,
Nick Fraelich,
Country Teasers,
Wasted Youth,
Quadrant,
Man Eating Sloth,
Skarface,
Tomorrow,
The Count Five,
The Skatalites,
The Last Poets,
Susan Cadogan,
The Black Dice,
Charles Mingus,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Leonard Cohen,
Throbbing Gristle,
Moss Icon,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Sun Ra,
New Age Steppers,
The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible, The Invisible.
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.