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 South Sudan and from Copenhagen.
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 1967 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the sitar 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 Blancmange to the dance 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Jeff Mills tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Victims record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 a guitar and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rapeman record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sugar Minott,
Mary Jane Girls,
John Coltrane,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
New Age Steppers,
Minny Pops,
Connie Case,
Kayak,
Goldenarms,
Bootsy Collins,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Angry Samoans,
Nik Kershaw,
The Moleskins,
Gang Starr,
Fatback Band,
Shuggie Otis,
Cymande,
Aural Exciters,
Organ,
Morten Harket,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Litter,
The Cowsills,
Lakeside,
Eve St. Jones,
China Crisis,
Thee Headcoats,
Maleditus Sound,
Glenn Branca,
Chris & Cosey,
Tres Demented,
Sparks,
The Gun Club,
Bobby Womack,
Young Marble Giants,
Dawn Penn,
Nico,
T. Rex,
Ultra Naté,
Camouflage,
Little Man,
Gastr Del Sol,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Yellowson,
Saccharine Trust,
The Dave Clark Five,
Dark Day,
Buzzcocks,
Section 25,
Ultravox,
The Birthday Party,
Lou Reed,
Khruangbin,
Dave Gahan,
Gang Green,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Velvet Underground,
Soul Sonic Force,
Warren Ellis,
Youth Brigade,
Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols, Sex Pistols.
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.