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 Kyrgyzstan and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 harpsichord 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 Charles Mingus to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gang Starr. All the underground hits.
All Loose Ends tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bang On A Can record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a ABC record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Robert Görl,
Metal Thangz,
Mo-Dettes,
Drexciya,
The J.B.'s,
Kerri Chandler,
Morten Harket,
Bush Tetras,
Prince Buster,
Bill Near,
Theoretical Girls,
David Bowie,
Derrick Morgan,
Donny Hathaway,
Isaac Hayes,
The Move,
Oneida,
DJ Sneak,
Country Teasers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
These Immortal Souls,
Erasure,
the Normal,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Basic Channel,
Parry Music,
Grandmaster Flash,
Marcia Griffiths,
Goldenarms,
DJ Style,
Traffic Nightmare,
Camouflage,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Josef K,
The Selecter,
Archie Shepp,
Lower 48,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Count Five,
Hoover,
Organ,
Magma,
Al Stewart,
Supertramp,
FM Einheit,
The Monochrome Set,
Swell Maps,
Hashim,
Mars,
Eden Ahbez,
Whodini,
Arab on Radar,
the Soft Cell,
Roxette,
OOIOO,
The Flesh Eaters,
Radio Birdman,
Wire,
Camberwell Now,
F. McDonald,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
a-ha,
Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can, Bang On A Can.
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.