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 Turkmenistan and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Stockholm.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 güiro 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 Shuggie Otis to the crunk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Public Image Ltd.. All the underground hits.
All Selector Dub Narcotic tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lucky Dragons record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Mighty Diamonds record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Howard Jones,
Eric B and Rakim,
F. McDonald,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Fela Kuti,
Cybotron,
Von Mondo,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Cymande,
The Moody Blues,
Zapp,
Laurel Aitken,
The J.B.'s,
Swans,
John Holt,
Massinfluence,
Unwound,
DJ Style,
Gang of Four,
the Slits,
Pierre Henry,
Bang On A Can,
Rakim,
Mr. Review,
Tears for Fears,
Blossom Toes,
Kevin Saunderson,
Chris Corsano,
Pagans,
cv313,
Mandrill,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Normal,
Sun City Girls,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
The American Breed,
John Cale,
MC5,
Procol Harum,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Five Americans,
The Fortunes,
Gastr Del Sol,
Bob Dylan,
The Cowsills,
Prince Buster,
DJ Sneak,
Rekid,
Scion,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Harry Pussy,
Peter & Gordon,
U.S. Maple,
The Misunderstood,
World's Most,
Lalann,
Man Parrish,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Trojans,
Nas, Nas, Nas, Nas.
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.