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 Accra.
But I was there.
I was there in 1987.
I was there at the first Nirvana show in Seattle.
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 Johannesburg and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school New York 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin 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 The United States of America to the rock kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Hashim tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Prince Buster record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Human League record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Erasure,
the Germs,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Funkadelic,
The United States of America,
Ludus,
Mark Hollis,
Scrapy,
Rufus Thomas,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Boz Scaggs,
Newcleus,
Visage,
Scott Walker + Sunn O))),
The Black Dice,
Sixth Finger,
ABC,
The American Breed,
Deakin,
Blossom Toes,
Roy Ayers,
ABBA,
Joyce Sims,
Eurythmics,
Spoonie Gee,
Jerry Gold Smith,
The Dave Clark Five,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Black Moon,
Glenn Branca,
Warren Ellis,
Dave Gahan,
Nation of Ulysses,
the Soft Cell,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
The Evens,
Technova,
Pussy Galore,
Zapp,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Silicon Teens,
Skaos,
Arab on Radar,
Maurizio,
Fad Gadget,
E-Dancer,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Vladislav Delay,
Clear Light,
Subhumans,
The Remains,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Invisible,
Eric Dolphy,
The Blues Magoos,
Black Bananas,
John Coltrane,
John Foxx,
Terry Callier,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Cowsills,
Blancmange,
Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman, Colin Newman.
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.