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 Dominica and from Seoul.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 synthesizer 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 Mad Mike to the grunge kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Agent Orange. All the underground hits.
All Pulsallama tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Soft Machine record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge 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 an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Rekid record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Gladiators,
Johnny Clarke,
One Last Wish,
Inner City,
OOIOO,
Sandy B,
Sixth Finger,
Hasil Adkins,
The Zeros,
The Golliwogs,
Yellowson,
Thompson Twins,
Liliput,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Marc Almond,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Pere Ubu,
Deepchord,
Bad Manners,
The Beau Brummels,
Slick Rick,
The Dead C,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Byron Stingily,
Make Up,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Warsaw,
Pussy Galore,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Trojans,
Unrelated Segments,
Juan Atkins,
Big Daddy Kane,
Stiv Bators,
Colin Newman,
Fear,
Dual Sessions,
Carl Craig,
CMW,
Unwound,
Popol Vuh,
Kayak,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Gabor Szabo,
New Order,
The Star Department,
Nation of Ulysses,
Aloha Tigers,
Swans,
Jacques Brel,
Deadbeat,
Los Fastidios,
Donny Hathaway,
Camouflage,
L. Decosne,
John Foxx,
Brothers Johnson,
Drexciya,
Black Sheep,
Scratch Acid,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A, Accadde A.
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.