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 Haiti and from Copenhagen.
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 1960 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
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 Reuben Wilson to the rock 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 Ken Boothe. All the underground hits.
All Nation of Ulysses tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Scrapy 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marvin Gaye record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
Archie Shepp,
Zapp,
Eric B and Rakim,
This Heat,
Severed Heads,
Sam Rivers,
Arab on Radar,
Easy Going,
Popol Vuh,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Harry Pussy,
Isaac Hayes,
Liliput,
Matthew Bourne,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
The Human League,
Organ,
Lindisfarne,
Rosa Yemen,
Black Pus,
The Young Rascals,
Nation of Ulysses,
Suicide,
Nirvana,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Little Man,
JFA,
Agent Orange,
The Slackers,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Second Layer,
Surgeon,
Shuggie Otis,
Cheater Slicks,
LL Cool J,
E-Dancer,
Guru Guru,
Trumans Water,
Glenn Branca,
Charles Mingus,
Fela Kuti,
John Cale,
Darondo,
Sugar Minott,
The Mojo Men,
The Pretty Things,
Joe Smooth,
Bobby Sherman,
Sandy B,
Iggy Pop,
Monolake,
Q65,
Negative Approach,
Jimmy McGriff,
Black Bananas,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Shadows of Knight,
Connie Case,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Frankie Knuckles,
Soft Machine,
Joensuu 1685,
Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish, Man Parrish.
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.