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 Tuvalu and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1965 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 The Fire Engines to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Glambeats Corp.. All the underground hits.
All T. Rex tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Frankie Knuckles 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 '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeff Mills record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ossler,
The J.B.'s,
Tears for Fears,
Lalann,
Scrapy,
Terry Callier,
KRS-One,
Jacques Brel,
Boredoms,
Tropical Tobacco,
Johnny Osbourne,
Whodini,
Symarip,
Barclay James Harvest,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Ash Ra Tempel,
DJ Style,
Funkadelic,
The Gladiators,
The Dirtbombs,
Tres Demented,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Fortunes,
Drive Like Jehu,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Sex Pistols,
Jeff Mills,
Icehouse,
Kaleidoscope,
Cluster,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Freddie Wadling,
Cheater Slicks,
Johnny Clarke,
Black Sheep,
Connie Case,
L. Decosne,
Mark Hollis,
Pantaleimon,
Yazoo,
Iggy Pop,
DJ Sneak,
Rhythm & Sound,
Schoolly D,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Soft Cell,
Dual Sessions,
The Raincoats,
Eric Copeland,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Warsaw,
R.M.O.,
Echospace,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Fluxion,
Infiniti,
Cal Tjader,
June Days,
The Moleskins,
Marine Girls,
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.