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 Burundi and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Music Machine to the grime 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 Silicon Teens. All the underground hits.
All Art Ensemble Of Chicago tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Main Source record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 mellotron and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slick Rick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Minny Pops,
Jesper Dahlback,
Robert Hood,
Nirvana,
Ludus,
Jerry's Kids,
Angry Samoans,
Suburban Knight,
Alphaville,
PIL,
Pole,
Yusef Lateef,
Nils Olav,
The Sound,
Bad Manners,
Soft Cell,
The Associates,
Brand Nubian,
Au Pairs,
Alton Ellis,
Cal Tjader,
Sandy B,
Traffic Nightmare,
Barry Ungar,
Neu!,
Zapp,
Junior Murvin,
Camouflage,
Yellowson,
Drive Like Jehu,
The Modern Lovers,
Lebanon Hanover,
Hasil Adkins,
Stiv Bators,
Eric B and Rakim,
Marshall Jefferson,
Scion,
The Human League,
Ohio Players,
Fat Boys,
Iggy Pop,
Lou Christie,
Section 25,
Quantec,
Agent Orange,
Slave,
Freddie Wadling,
The Selecter,
Pussy Galore,
Kerri Chandler,
Average White Band,
The Angels of Light,
The Slits,
Peter and Kerry,
Dark Day,
Sonic Youth,
The Detroit Cobras,
Juan Atkins,
James White and The Blacks,
Index,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17, Heaven 17.
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.