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 Niger and from Mexico City.
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 1969 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Mars to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Intrusion. All the underground hits.
All The Seeds tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jeru the Damaja record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Interpol,
The Kinks,
The Cure,
X-102,
Tears for Fears,
Pylon,
The Martian,
Danielle Patucci,
Ronnie Foster,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Divine Comedy,
The Move,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Unrelated Segments,
Thee Headcoats,
Sonny Sharrock,
Circle Jerks,
New Age Steppers,
Nick Fraelich,
Livin' Joy,
The Wake,
Desert Stars,
Kenny Larkin,
Warsaw,
Rakim,
Malaria!,
DNA,
Gang Gang Dance,
Robert Görl,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Amazonics,
The Fire Engines,
David Axelrod,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Darondo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Mars,
Camouflage,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Ralphi Rosario,
Black Moon,
Mission of Burma,
The Names,
Bobby Womack,
Skarface,
Dark Day,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Electric Prunes,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sound Behaviour,
Sun City Girls,
Von Mondo,
Pussy Galore,
B.T. Express,
The Pretty Things,
Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion, Intrusion.
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.