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 Australia and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Nirvana to the grunge 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 John Lydon. All the underground hits.
All Ornette Coleman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Human League record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Donald Byrd record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Big Daddy Kane,
Ituana,
Ohio Players,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Godley & Creme,
Masters at Work,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Angry Samoans,
Fad Gadget,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Golliwogs,
The Knickerbockers,
Inner City,
Mark Hollis,
Amon Düül II,
Grey Daturas,
Gastr Del Sol,
the Bar-Kays,
the Sonics,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Silicon Teens,
Magazine,
K-Klass,
Hoover,
Soulsonic Force,
X-102,
The Evens,
Lalo Schifrin,
Soft Cell,
Rites of Spring,
KRS-One,
Cluster,
Von Mondo,
China Crisis,
Mandrill,
The Trojans,
John Coltrane,
Minny Pops,
Roxette,
Camouflage,
Piero Umiliani,
Young Marble Giants,
Blancmange,
The Black Dice,
The Raincoats,
Sight & Sound,
New Order,
ABC,
The Residents,
The Busters,
Lalann,
Black Sheep,
ABBA,
The Music Machine,
The Young Rascals,
Juan Atkins,
Man Parrish,
Marvin Gaye,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Searchers,
Stetsasonic,
Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan, Gichy Dan.
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.