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 India and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South 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 1961 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 1962 at the first Guess Who practice in a loft in Winnipeg.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Reagan Youth to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 David McCallum. All the underground hits.
All The Selecter tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Inner City 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sexual Harrassment record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Eric B and Rakim,
The Cure,
The Move,
The Saints,
Sparks,
X-Ray Spex,
Procol Harum,
The Raincoats,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Fire Engines,
The Searchers,
Ice-T,
Eli Mardock,
Zapp,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Harry Pussy,
Bobby Byrd,
Accadde A,
Thompson Twins,
Pantytec,
Vladislav Delay,
KRS-One,
Moss Icon,
Lightning Bolt,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Modern Lovers,
Harpers Bizarre,
Bob Dylan,
Stereo Dub,
Kurtis Blow,
Godley & Creme,
Wire,
The Pop Group,
Ronan,
Mr. Review,
Essential Logic,
Marshall Jefferson,
Lou Reed,
Pulsallama,
Blake Baxter,
The United States of America,
Sugar Minott,
Trumans Water,
Mary Jane Girls,
Gregory Isaacs,
Tears for Fears,
Isaac Hayes,
Robert Hood,
Symarip,
Jeff Mills,
The Sound,
Kool Moe Dee,
Throbbing Gristle,
Anthony Braxton,
H. Thieme,
The Grass Roots,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Brick,
The Fugs,
Dark Day,
Sarah Menescal,
Erasure,
Jesper Dahlback,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.