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 Liberia and from Cairo.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Philadelphia.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Columbus 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the techno 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 D'Angelo. All the underground hits.
All Ohio Players tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every This Heat 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Normal record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Techniques,
Absolute Body Control,
Bizarre Inc.,
The Searchers,
Fluxion,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
The Invisible,
Schoolly D,
Trumans Water,
Negative Approach,
Main Source,
Ultra Naté,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Bar-Kays,
Minnie Riperton,
The Busters,
Pussy Galore,
Shoche,
World's Most,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Sight & Sound,
Alison Limerick,
Groovy Waters,
Jeff Mills,
Jeff Lynne,
Maurizio,
Erasure,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Black Moon,
Los Fastidios,
Whodini,
OOIOO,
Eric B and Rakim,
Dual Sessions,
Grandmaster Flash,
New Order,
Dark Day,
The Monks,
Marvin Gaye,
Don Cherry,
Cluster,
The Slackers,
Mars,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Saints,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Archie Shepp,
The Angels of Light,
June Days,
The Names,
The Flesh Eaters,
Banda Bassotti,
Jandek,
Niagra,
The Velvet Underground,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Soft Cell,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Cybotron,
This Heat, This Heat, This Heat, This Heat.
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.