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 Bosnia Herzegovina and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1962 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Milan.
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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Avey Tare to the crunk 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 Fela Kuti. All the underground hits.
All Ash Ra Tempel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sixth Finger 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tres Demented record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Crime,
Liliput,
Gang Gang Dance,
John Foxx,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
48th St. Collective,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Radio Birdman,
Pierre Henry,
Accadde A,
Aaron Thompson,
Derrick May,
Howard Jones,
Lyres,
Fat Boys,
Scion,
The Young Rascals,
Erykah Badu,
Soul II Soul,
The Index,
Yusef Lateef,
David Axelrod,
The United States of America,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Juan Atkins,
Ronnie Foster,
Desert Stars,
Nils Olav,
Nas,
The American Breed,
Carl Craig,
The Human League,
Reagan Youth,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
DJ Style,
The Dirtbombs,
The Vogues,
Chris Corsano,
The Saints,
Bobby Womack,
Joe Smooth,
Boz Scaggs,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
Laurel Aitken,
Boredoms,
Procol Harum,
H. Thieme,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Misunderstood,
Can,
Grauzone,
Al Stewart,
Bobby Byrd,
Gichy Dan,
Franke,
Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia, Harmonia.
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.