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 Angola and from Sao Paulo.
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 1964 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Taipei 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 snare 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 Mark Hollis to the rock 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Charles Mingus tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a De La Soul & Jungle Brothers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
Bush Tetras,
Terry Callier,
Buzzcocks,
Organ,
Barrington Levy,
Shoche,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Sister Nancy,
Hashim,
Traffic Nightmare,
Kurtis Blow,
The Birthday Party,
B.T. Express,
Second Layer,
John Coltrane,
Fluxion,
Rosa Yemen,
The Dirtbombs,
The Neon Judgement,
PIL,
Joe Finger,
The Martian,
Michelle Simonal,
Althea and Donna,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Junior Murvin,
Don Cherry,
Scrapy,
Alton Ellis,
The Smiths,
Piero Umiliani,
The Fuzztones,
Newcleus,
Underground Resistance,
the Slits,
ABC,
E-Dancer,
Cheater Slicks,
Amazonics,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Big Daddy Kane,
Prince Buster,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Ornette Coleman,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Blake Baxter,
Lungfish,
Jeru the Damaja,
June of 44,
Gregory Isaacs,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Smoke,
MDC,
Roy Ayers Ubiquity,
Electric Light Orchestra,
the Soft Cell,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Brand Nubian,
Black Moon,
Black Pus,
The Motions, The Motions, The Motions, The Motions.
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.