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 Chile and from Salvador.
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 1960 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Kings Of Tomorrow to the grime kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 Marcia Griffiths. All the underground hits.
All Marshall Jefferson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lucky Dragons record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
UT,
New York Dolls,
The Remains,
Infiniti,
Fear,
Zapp,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Spandau Ballet,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
DNA,
The Modern Lovers,
Rosa Yemen,
The Blackbyrds,
Frankie Knuckles,
Lou Christie,
Unwound,
Slave,
Lungfish,
Guru Guru,
Ten City,
Roxette,
Yusef Lateef,
Lee Hazlewood,
Davy DMX,
Hasil Adkins,
The Sound,
The Residents,
Colin Newman,
Camberwell Now,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Cecil Taylor,
Subhumans,
The Human League,
John Lydon,
Freddie Wadling,
Severed Heads,
Man Parrish,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Carl Craig,
Depeche Mode,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Essential Logic,
Intrusion,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Terry Callier,
Simply Red,
The Flesh Eaters,
June Days,
Black Bananas,
Motorama,
The Standells,
Kerri Chandler,
Siglo XX,
Joyce Sims,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Joy Division,
Junior Murvin,
Rakim,
Grey Daturas,
Lebanon Hanover,
Amon Düül II,
Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal, Sarah Menescal.
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.