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 Cuba and from Edmonton.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in 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 1962 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Copenhagen and London.
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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the linndrum 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 Essential Logic to the rap 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 Kool Moe Dee. All the underground hits.
All James Chance & The Contortions tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Grass Roots record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 sitar and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fear record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Music Machine,
Section 25,
Oblivians,
Index,
Big Daddy Kane,
Quadrant,
Dawn Penn,
Lucky Dragons,
Lakeside,
The Moody Blues,
Sällskapet,
Saccharine Trust,
The Barracudas,
Marc Almond,
The Selecter,
Kenny Larkin,
Eurythmics,
Wasted Youth,
Davy DMX,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Lungfish,
Metal Thangz,
John Cale,
The Slackers,
Arab on Radar,
The Cramps,
Model 500,
Bill Near,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Brick,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Soft Machine,
Sly & The Family Stone,
In Retrospect,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Buzzcocks,
Amazonics,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Eric Dolphy,
The Durutti Column,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
H. Thieme,
Tears for Fears,
Pole,
Donald Byrd,
The Trojans,
Television Personalities,
Warren Ellis,
The Golliwogs,
Fatback Band,
Pylon,
New York Dolls,
Dave Gahan,
the Sonics,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The New Christs,
Sister Nancy,
La Düsseldorf,
Jacob Miller,
Parry Music,
Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones, Terrestrial Tones.
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.