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 Dominican Republic and from Tokyo.
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 1960 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Taipei and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 T. Rex to the grunge 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 Isaac Hayes. All the underground hits.
All Brand Nubian tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Grandmaster Flash record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 spring reverb and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sällskapet record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rapeman,
Deadbeat,
Moebius,
Judy Mowatt,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Loose Ends,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Dead C,
Agent Orange,
Ohio Players,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Fela Kuti,
Soulsonic Force,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
The Dave Clark Five,
The Blackbyrds,
Saccharine Trust,
The Tremeloes,
Barbara Tucker,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Ice-T,
Minnie Riperton,
Fear,
Unwound,
Section 25,
Spoonie Gee,
Chris Corsano,
Ludus,
The Angels of Light,
Scratch Acid,
Erykah Badu,
Carl Craig,
Angry Samoans,
Intrusion,
Harpers Bizarre,
Gastr Del Sol,
Desert Stars,
The Last Poets,
Altered Images,
Eric B and Rakim,
Donald Byrd,
Man Parrish,
Rekid,
ABBA,
Cymande,
Skaos,
Joey Negro,
David Axelrod,
Jandek,
Blossom Toes,
Bobby Womack,
The Birthday Party,
Blancmange,
Joe Finger,
Essential Logic,
Trumans Water,
Alice Coltrane,
Anakelly,
Arab on Radar,
Fatback Band,
the Soft Cell,
Television Personalities,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras, The Detroit Cobras.
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.