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 United States and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Soft Boys show in Cambridge.
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 1965 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Madrid and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 organ 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 Pere Ubu 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. All the underground hits.
All The Searchers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marshall Jefferson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord 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 güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Hoover,
8 Eyed Spy,
Freddie Wadling,
Pharoah Sanders,
The Offenders,
Underground Resistance,
Magazine,
Lakeside,
Gang Starr,
Archie Shepp,
The Dirtbombs,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Gastr Del Sol,
Moss Icon,
The Litter,
Chris & Cosey,
Lightning Bolt,
Franke,
The Young Rascals,
Liliput,
Au Pairs,
New Order,
Stiv Bators,
Jerry's Kids,
The Dead C,
Black Moon,
Alice Coltrane,
Lou Reed,
Bobby Womack,
Cheater Slicks,
The Sound,
Lyres,
Gabor Szabo,
Mad Mike,
Babytalk,
Severed Heads,
Half Japanese,
Fad Gadget,
Niagra,
The Red Krayola,
Arcadia,
Bill Near,
Eve St. Jones,
the Human League,
Neil Young,
Marcia Griffiths,
Robert Wyatt,
Kaleidoscope,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Rotary Connection,
Dave Gahan,
Hasil Adkins,
The Cramps,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Loose Ends,
Blossom Toes,
The Dave Clark Five,
Man Eating Sloth,
Interpol,
Bang On A Can,
Skarface,
Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté, Ultra Naté.
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.