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 Papua New Guinea and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez 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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 chamberlin 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 Alice Coltrane to the punk kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Todd Terry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Thompson Twins record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Trojans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ice-T,
Yazoo,
Franke,
John Coltrane,
Saccharine Trust,
Porter Ricks,
Malaria!,
Faraquet,
Metal Thangz,
Procol Harum,
Black Pus,
Maleditus Sound,
Agitation Free,
The Barracudas,
Prince Buster,
Tom Boy,
Young Marble Giants,
The Last Poets,
Guru Guru,
The Techniques,
Rod Modell,
Hardrive,
Erasure,
Darondo,
Trumans Water,
Rakim,
The Raincoats,
Monks,
Mad Mike,
Oneida,
The Victims,
Lebanon Hanover,
Amon Düül II,
Supertramp,
The Golliwogs,
The Knickerbockers,
Scratch Acid,
Sight & Sound,
A Flock of Seagulls,
The Mummies,
Eric Copeland,
The New Christs,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
The Offenders,
David Bowie,
Radiopuhelimet,
The Gladiators,
OOIOO,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Cluster,
Japan,
In Retrospect,
Junior Murvin,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Magma,
The Names,
48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective, 48th St. Collective.
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.