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 Panama and from Milan.
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 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Lille.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Toronto 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 The Monks to the electroclash 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 Cameo. All the underground hits.
All Lakeside tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Saints 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Angels of Light record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
One Last Wish,
Mandrill,
Chrome,
Graham Central Station,
Swans,
Stiv Bators,
Mark Hollis,
Section 25,
Nico,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Cameo,
T.S.O.L.,
David Axelrod,
10cc,
The Fortunes,
Mr. Review,
Judy Mowatt,
Niagra,
The Golliwogs,
The Vogues,
Soul Sonic Force,
Adolescents,
Robert Wyatt,
Kas Product,
Minnie Riperton,
Cheater Slicks,
Stereo Dub,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Angels of Light,
Icehouse,
Brass Construction,
New York Dolls,
Thompson Twins,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Boogie Down Productions,
F. McDonald,
Lonnie Liston Smith,
The Fall,
Max Romeo,
The Victims,
Procol Harum,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Crispian St. Peters,
Sonny Sharrock,
Angry Samoans,
Arthur Verocai,
Kayak,
Alton Ellis,
Albert Ayler,
Flamin' Groovies,
Banda Bassotti,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Nation of Ulysses,
Nick Fraelich,
Massinfluence,
Ponytail,
Quadrant,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Public Enemy,
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.