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 Liberia and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the 808 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 The Vogues to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Gil Scott Heron. All the underground hits.
All Suicide tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Jeff Lynne record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Peter & Gordon,
The Blackbyrds,
the Sonics,
L. Decosne,
Mr. Review,
The Trojans,
Bill Near,
The Happenings,
Sun Ra,
Fela Kuti,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
DJ Sneak,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Hoover,
Bootsy Collins,
Janne Schatter,
Skarface,
The Searchers,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
Popol Vuh,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
The Skatalites,
Oneida,
Mark Hollis,
Lou Reed,
Suburban Knight,
Jeru the Damaja,
D'Angelo,
Accadde A,
Deepchord,
Clear Light,
The Walker Brothers,
JFA,
The Victims,
Pole,
Can,
Liliput,
Zapp,
Arthur Verocai,
8 Eyed Spy,
Eddi Front,
Suicide,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Bauhaus,
Curtis Mayfield,
Tommy Roe,
The Cramps,
Amazonics,
Sarah Menescal,
Ultravox,
Harmonia,
Mad Mike,
Country Joe & The Fish,
the Association,
the Human League,
Robert Hood,
Moss Icon,
The Martian,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things, The Pretty Things.
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.