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 Djibouti and from Winnipeg.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Crash Course in Science to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Radiohead. All the underground hits.
All Technova tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Terror Squad Feat. Camron record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Last Poets,
Rapeman,
Godley & Creme,
Albert Ayler,
Basic Channel,
Popol Vuh,
Schoolly D,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Modern Lovers,
Scion,
Boogie Down Productions,
Newcleus,
the Human League,
Amon Düül,
Absolute Body Control,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
Khruangbin,
Tubeway Army,
Country Teasers,
Slick Rick,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
AZ,
Bang On A Can,
the Soft Cell,
Porter Ricks,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Brand Nubian,
Mandrill,
Magazine,
Pantytec,
Second Layer,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Smog,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Lyres,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Donald Byrd,
Model 500,
Pylon,
Joey Negro,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Symarip,
Rakim,
Big Daddy Kane,
PIL,
Ronan,
Royal Trux,
Man Parrish,
The Durutti Column,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Mummies,
Andrew Hill,
Leonard Cohen,
T.S.O.L.,
Nico,
John Cale,
Funkadelic,
The Dead C,
Piero Umiliani,
Bootsy Collins,
The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines, The Fire Engines.
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.