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 the UAE and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in New York and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1977 at the first Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Curtis Mayfield to the punk 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 Boogie Down Productions. All the underground hits.
All Flash Fearless tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pere Ubu record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Terror Squad Feat. Camron record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Gun Club,
X-101,
Freddie Wadling,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Graham Central Station,
Kas Product,
Grandmaster Flash,
Joe Finger,
Joy Division,
Iggy Pop,
A Certain Ratio,
Matthew Halsall,
The Gories,
Traffic Nightmare,
cv313,
The Raincoats,
Pulsallama,
The Toasters,
Peter & Gordon,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Severed Heads,
Jimmy McGriff,
Technova,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Pierre Henry,
Ohio Players,
LL Cool J,
The Real Kids,
Royal Trux,
Sam Rivers,
Sight & Sound,
the Sonics,
Darondo,
Kevin Saunderson,
Mr. Review,
Max Romeo,
Hot Snakes,
E-Dancer,
Tres Demented,
Television,
Circle Jerks,
Franke,
Das Ding,
Rhythm & Sound,
Maurizio,
Howard Jones,
Radiohead,
Barbara Tucker,
Glenn Branca,
Kool Moe Dee,
Davy DMX,
The Saints,
Soul II Soul,
the Soft Cell,
The Five Americans,
Joe Smooth,
Kerri Chandler,
Fugazi,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Kinks,
Slick Rick,
Jeff Mills,
Todd Rundgren,
Warsaw,
Cameo, Cameo, Cameo, Cameo.
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.