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 San Marino and from Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Tehran and Lagos.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 synthesizer 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 Franke 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 Marshall Jefferson. All the underground hits.
All Marvin Gaye tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Throbbing Gristle record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap 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 sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a It's A Beautiful Day record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tomorrow,
Flipper,
Gang Gang Dance,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Eve St. Jones,
Kool Moe Dee,
Sugar Minott,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Symarip,
Heaven 17,
Erasure,
Reuben Wilson,
Gabor Szabo,
Minnie Riperton,
The New Christs,
Altered Images,
Donny Hathaway,
Urselle,
Letta Mbulu,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Offenders,
Bush Tetras,
Los Fastidios,
Erykah Badu,
Toni Rubio,
New Order,
The Count Five,
Todd Rundgren,
Don Cherry,
Lalo Schifrin,
Yusef Lateef,
Con Funk Shun,
Bad Manners,
Aswad,
Sandy B,
Pharoah Sanders,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Groovy Waters,
Soft Cell,
Rekid,
Masters at Work,
The Mummies,
Blancmange,
Kaleidoscope,
Buzzcocks,
Metal Thangz,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Royal Trux,
The Remains,
The Grass Roots,
Crime,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Alice Coltrane,
FM Einheit,
Severed Heads,
Delta 5,
LL Cool J,
Derrick May,
Rites of Spring,
Pussy Galore,
Q and Not U,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gong,
Brick, Brick, Brick, Brick.
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.