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 Kyrgyzstan and from Stockholm.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1961 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Accra 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 808 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 Echo & the Bunnymen to the crunk 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 Stereo Dub. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every DJ Sneak 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 snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Davy DMX record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Flamin' Groovies,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Hashim,
Glambeats Corp.,
Big Daddy Kane,
Black Moon,
KRS-One,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Alice Coltrane,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Saints,
The Moleskins,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Eric Dolphy,
ABBA,
Severed Heads,
The J.B.'s,
the Sonics,
Japan,
Piero Umiliani,
John Coltrane,
The Remains,
Agent Orange,
Sun City Girls,
the Swans,
Marc Almond,
JFA,
Aloha Tigers,
The Walker Brothers,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Gories,
Guru Guru,
Curtis Mayfield,
Darondo,
Nation of Ulysses,
Ten City,
Harry Pussy,
Shoche,
Mr. Review,
Lyres,
Adolescents,
Hot Snakes,
Bobby Womack,
The Golliwogs,
Kurtis Blow,
Blake Baxter,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
the Fania All-Stars,
Liliput,
Nirvana,
Y Pants,
Pussy Galore,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
D'Angelo,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Bootsy Collins,
Agitation Free,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Black Bananas,
Lakeside,
Davy DMX,
Todd Rundgren,
Chrome, Chrome, Chrome, Chrome.
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.