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 Senegal and from Houston.
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 1960 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Jakarta.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 John Coltrane to the punk 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 Art Ensemble Of Chicago. All the underground hits.
All Yellowson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Trumans Water 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a rhodes and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Monks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Curtis Mayfield,
Bill Near,
The Red Krayola,
The Seeds,
The Moody Blues,
Mars,
48th St. Collective,
The Fall,
Oblivians,
John Lydon,
Lower 48,
Vladislav Delay,
Mandrill,
H. Thieme,
Kenny Larkin,
Sexual Harrassment,
June of 44,
Terry Callier,
Rosa Yemen,
The Residents,
Fatback Band,
Television,
The Sonics,
Wings,
Matthew Halsall,
The New Christs,
The Index,
The Associates,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Pylon,
The Raincoats,
Amazonics,
Unwound,
Lalo Schifrin,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Velvet Underground,
Schoolly D,
New Order,
Newcleus,
Jacques Brel,
Thee Headcoats,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Organ,
David Axelrod,
Cameo,
Piero Umiliani,
Flash Fearless,
Grey Daturas,
the Germs,
the Association,
The Offenders,
Jesper Dahlback,
Ralphi Rosario,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
Rekid,
Chris Corsano,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
The Toasters,
The Cure, The Cure, The Cure, The Cure.
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.