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 Tonga and from Accra.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Monochrome Set to the crunk 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 June Days. All the underground hits.
All Grey Daturas tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Young Marble Giants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Icehouse record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Minny Pops,
China Crisis,
The Slits,
Crispian St. Peters,
Lower 48,
Bluetip,
Rapeman,
Man Parrish,
Glenn Branca,
Bronski Beat,
Agent Orange,
Nik Kershaw,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Stetsasonic,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
The Star Department,
The Cure,
Babytalk,
Fifty Foot Hose,
The Names,
Television Personalities,
Kaleidoscope,
Wings,
The Doobie Brothers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
The United States of America,
Skriet,
The Mummies,
The Moody Blues,
Cecil Taylor,
This Heat,
Public Image Ltd.,
Dennis Brown,
The Monks,
Danielle Patucci,
Derrick May,
Yusef Lateef,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Vladislav Delay,
Outsiders,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Sound Behaviour,
Half Japanese,
The Five Americans,
Andrew Hill,
Agitation Free,
Easy Going,
Jandek,
Massinfluence,
Schoolly D,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
X-Ray Spex,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jeru the Damaja,
Wolf Eyes,
Second Layer,
the Soft Cell,
LL Cool J,
kango's stein massive,
Young Marble Giants,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Carl Craig,
Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective, Animal Collective.
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.