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 Antigua and from Jakarta.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 clarinet 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 Ultramagnetic MC's to the dance kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Duran Duran. All the underground hits.
All the Normal tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Justin Hinds & The Dominoes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 synthesizer and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sex Pistols record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
EPMD,
the Sonics,
Kurtis Blow,
Q65,
Delon & Dalcan,
Con Funk Shun,
Soft Machine,
The Doors,
Boredoms,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Monks,
Ice-T,
The Velvet Underground,
Deepchord,
Monolake,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
David Axelrod,
Fear,
John Cale,
New Order,
Donny Hathaway,
Mandrill,
The Real Kids,
Infiniti,
Make Up,
48th St. Collective,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
8 Eyed Spy,
Skaos,
Mary Jane Girls,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Throbbing Gristle,
Mark Hollis,
Darondo,
Symarip,
Excepter,
Derrick May,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Public Enemy,
PIL,
Anakelly,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Ossler,
Grauzone,
Lou Reed,
X-Ray Spex,
Moss Icon,
The Motions,
the Normal,
Organ,
MC5,
Cheater Slicks,
Cymande,
the Slits,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Suicide,
Ken Boothe,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
B.T. Express,
The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter, The Selecter.
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.