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 Vanuatu and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Soul II Soul to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Tomorrow. All the underground hits.
All Ice-T tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every X-Ray Spex record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a the Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cymande,
The Last Poets,
Black Sheep,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Fluxion,
The Smiths,
Drive Like Jehu,
Spoonie Gee,
Bush Tetras,
Blancmange,
Khruangbin,
Quantec,
The Techniques,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Ituana,
The Blues Magoos,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Doobie Brothers,
Marc Almond,
Black Moon,
Panda Bear,
Vainqueur,
Monolake,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Half Japanese,
Ohio Players,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Donny Hathaway,
The Seeds,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Lalo Schifrin,
the Fania All-Stars,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Jandek,
Kenny Larkin,
Ultimate Spinach,
Mission of Burma,
Fear,
Kurtis Blow,
Public Image Ltd.,
Joy Division,
Dennis Brown,
Iggy Pop,
Bill Wells,
Section 25,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
kango's stein massive,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Pretty Things,
Pere Ubu,
ABBA,
Althea and Donna,
Crispy Ambulance,
Sarah Menescal,
Glambeats Corp.,
Blossom Toes,
The Monochrome Set,
The Evens,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Rosa Yemen,
Little Man,
the Association, the Association, the Association, the Association.
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.