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 Serbia and from Shanghai.
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 1968 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Divine Comedy to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Shuggie Otis. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-102 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rakim record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Audionom,
Nas,
Man Parrish,
Glambeats Corp.,
Crooked Eye,
The Fuzztones,
The Walker Brothers,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Y Pants,
The Selecter,
John Holt,
Curtis Mayfield,
The New Christs,
The Pop Group,
Yazoo,
Joy Division,
Tim Buckley,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Eden Ahbez,
Soul Sonic Force,
Wings,
DNA,
Oblivians,
The Divine Comedy,
Tubeway Army,
Donny Hathaway,
John Cale,
The Cramps,
Joey Negro,
Henry Cow,
Neu!,
Lee Hazlewood,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sonny Sharrock,
Nick Fraelich,
Tears for Fears,
UT,
Marvin Gaye,
Oneida,
Rosa Yemen,
Fluxion,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rapeman,
Kerri Chandler,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Pharoah Sanders,
Silicon Teens,
Jeru the Damaja,
a-ha,
Hoover,
The Fire Engines,
Cybotron,
Chrome,
New York Dolls,
The Durutti Column,
10cc,
Accadde A,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Drexciya,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Agitation Free,
Lalann, Lalann, Lalann, Lalann.
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.