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 Somalia and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 Slits to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Boredoms. All the underground hits.
All Fifty Foot Hose tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every ABBA record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Maurizio,
Guru Guru,
Spandau Ballet,
the Fania All-Stars,
Bobby Womack,
Pulsallama,
Moebius,
Susan Cadogan,
The Gladiators,
Niagra,
Desert Stars,
Marvin Gaye,
Cymande,
Urselle,
Icehouse,
Ken Boothe,
The Gap Band,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Wings,
Sexual Harrassment,
Judy Mowatt,
Donald Byrd,
Frankie Knuckles,
Carl Craig,
Masters at Work,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Scratch Acid,
Juan Atkins,
Section 25,
Sun Ra,
Suburban Knight,
Nils Olav,
The Human League,
Jeff Lynne,
Ituana,
The Smoke,
Lou Christie,
Eurythmics,
Stiv Bators,
The Velvet Underground,
Man Parrish,
The Invisible,
Visage,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Archie Shepp,
Yazoo,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Charles Mingus,
Mandrill,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Sugar Minott,
Harpers Bizarre,
Monks,
Boogie Down Productions,
John Lydon,
The Grass Roots,
Shoche,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Johnny Osbourne,
Minutemen,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.