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 Benin and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Salvador.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Copenhagen 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 güiro 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 Pierre Henry to the rock 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 Severed Heads. All the underground hits.
All Yazoo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Cymande record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
the Slits,
The Selecter,
The Velvet Underground,
kango's stein massive,
The Angels of Light,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Kurtis Blow,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Rekid,
The Golliwogs,
Arthur Verocai,
Soft Cell,
Cecil Taylor,
Eve St. Jones,
Davy DMX,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Eric Copeland,
Letta Mbulu,
Pagans,
Siglo XX,
Connie Case,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Black Flag,
Crispy Ambulance,
L. Decosne,
Danielle Patucci,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Mojo Men,
Stiv Bators,
Deadbeat,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Mo-Dettes,
Thompson Twins,
KRS-One,
Yusef Lateef,
Shoche,
Eric B and Rakim,
Tres Demented,
Suicide,
Erasure,
The Moleskins,
Scrapy,
Rites of Spring,
Harry Pussy,
Jesper Dahlback,
John Coltrane,
Flipper,
Aswad,
Chris Corsano,
Boz Scaggs,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Patti Smith,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Albert Ayler,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Ralphi Rosario,
Delon & Dalcan,
Moss Icon,
Byron Stingily,
The Red Krayola,
Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead, Radiohead.
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.