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 Rwanda and from Lyon.
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 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing 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 Tom Verlaine 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 Johnny Osbourne to the dance kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 The Golliwogs. All the underground hits.
All Procol Harum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cymande record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and an arpeggiator and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Last Poets record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Max Romeo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Juan Atkins,
Echospace,
Frankie Knuckles,
Mr. Review,
Neu!,
The Fugs,
Flamin' Groovies,
Toni Rubio,
Todd Rundgren,
Ultra Naté,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Unrelated Segments,
Mandrill,
Man Eating Sloth,
Drive Like Jehu,
Yusef Lateef,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
Matthew Halsall,
The Moleskins,
The Dirtbombs,
Jeru the Damaja,
Matthew Bourne,
The Index,
Cal Tjader,
Aural Exciters,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Slackers,
The Fortunes,
Au Pairs,
Bluetip,
Connie Case,
Thee Headcoats,
Nas,
Mad Mike,
Chris & Cosey,
Letta Mbulu,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Rapeman,
Angry Samoans,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Graham Central Station,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Robert Wyatt,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Zapp,
Fad Gadget,
Marvin Gaye,
Black Sheep,
Dead Boys,
Pulsallama,
Bill Near,
Moss Icon,
Depeche Mode,
Urselle,
Trumans Water,
The Last Poets,
Bad Manners,
Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones, Howard Jones.
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.