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 South Africa and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 Human League practice in a loft in Sheffield.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Lindisfarne to the dance kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 MC5. All the underground hits.
All Robert Görl tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Cure record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal electroclash 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 mellotron and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Roy Ayers record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Magma,
Wire,
Malaria!,
B.T. Express,
Rosa Yemen,
D'Angelo,
Kas Product,
Gil Scott Heron,
The Offenders,
The Fire Engines,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Anakelly,
The Velvet Underground,
The Techniques,
Stetsasonic,
Excepter,
The New Christs,
Letta Mbulu,
Maurizio,
The Beau Brummels,
Reuben Wilson,
Joensuu 1685,
Rotary Connection,
The Busters,
Graham Central Station,
Jimmy McGriff,
Scion,
Fad Gadget,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Shuggie Otis,
Bobby Sherman,
Jerry's Kids,
EPMD,
Tears for Fears,
Banda Bassotti,
Depeche Mode,
Piero Umiliani,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Alarm Clocks,
La Düsseldorf,
Leonard Cohen,
The Last Poets,
Ohio Players,
Blake Baxter,
Byron Stingily,
Sam Rivers,
Joe Smooth,
Donald Byrd,
Lucky Dragons,
Nick Fraelich,
Rites of Spring,
Toni Rubio,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Star Department,
Idris Muhammad,
Eli Mardock,
Country Joe & The Fish,
China Crisis,
Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes, Hot Snakes.
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.