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 Georgia and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Sixth Finger to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 MC5. All the underground hits.
All Barrington Levy tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Negative Approach record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an oboe.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Man Parrish,
Alice Coltrane,
Sparks,
Q and Not U,
Y Pants,
Kerrie Biddell,
Cal Tjader,
The Monks,
The Wake,
Slave,
The Smiths,
Metal Thangz,
Jacques Brel,
Johnny Clarke,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Animal Collective,
Crash Course in Science,
Groovy Waters,
Harry Pussy,
Suicide,
Absolute Body Control,
Matthew Bourne,
Roy Ayers,
Surgeon,
Thee Headcoats,
Piero Umiliani,
Los Fastidios,
Pet Shop Boys,
Josef K,
R.M.O.,
Aaron Thompson,
Vladislav Delay,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tommy Roe,
Lalo Schifrin,
La Düsseldorf,
Alton Ellis,
Qualms,
Flipper,
Sun Ra,
Duran Duran,
Joe Finger,
The Star Department,
Sandy B,
Black Bananas,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Soft Machine,
Parry Music,
Gang of Four,
Camouflage,
Robert Hood,
Jesper Dahlback,
The Knickerbockers,
Angry Samoans,
Cheater Slicks,
Scratch Acid,
Bronski Beat,
X-102,
Nation of Ulysses,
Porter Ricks,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.