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 Kenya and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Milan 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 clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Lucky Dragons to the rap 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 The American Breed. All the underground hits.
All Jacques Brel tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shuggie Otis record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The J.B.'s record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Normal,
Gian Franco Pienzio,
Terry Callier,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Underground Resistance,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
The Searchers,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Pussy Galore,
Clear Light,
Dual Sessions,
La Düsseldorf,
Anthony Braxton,
Stereo Dub,
Wasted Youth,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
The New Christs,
The Monks,
Tom Boy,
Andrew Hill,
Mars,
The Blackbyrds,
Tropical Tobacco,
Bootsy Collins,
Pere Ubu,
Procol Harum,
World's Most,
the Fania All-Stars,
Donald Byrd,
Outsiders,
Negative Approach,
Gang Gang Dance,
Banda Bassotti,
The Sisters of Mercy,
LL Cool J,
Siglo XX,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Jesper Dahlback,
These Immortal Souls,
Funkadelic,
OOIOO,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
New Age Steppers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Scion,
the Association,
Faraquet,
Unrelated Segments,
Byron Stingily,
Porter Ricks,
Theoretical Girls,
The Moody Blues,
Tim Buckley,
Gang Starr,
Roxy Music,
James White and The Blacks,
Camouflage,
Kurtis Blow,
Boogie Down Productions,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Amazonics,
John Cale,
L. Decosne,
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.