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 Vietnam and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mumbai 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 organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 Graham Central Station to the disco 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 Television. All the underground hits.
All Blancmange tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Hutcherson record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
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 Rites of Spring record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Underground Resistance,
Fat Boys,
Mo-Dettes,
Marmalade,
Hoover,
Joy Division,
Outsiders,
Nico,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Dead C,
Joe Smooth,
New Age Steppers,
The Blues Magoos,
E-Dancer,
Severed Heads,
EPMD,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Music Machine,
Frankie Knuckles,
Stetsasonic,
Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band,
New York Dolls,
Glambeats Corp.,
Susan Cadogan,
Dead Boys,
The Human League,
Derrick May,
Soft Machine,
John Coltrane,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Gerry Rafferty,
Deakin,
Arthur Verocai,
T. Rex,
The Fuzztones,
The Star Department,
Sugar Minott,
Josef K,
Unrelated Segments,
Darondo,
Ultimate Spinach,
Pet Shop Boys,
Throbbing Gristle,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Robert Hood,
Todd Terry,
Ronan,
Animal Collective,
Supertramp,
Pantaleimon,
The Alarm Clocks,
B.T. Express,
Aswad,
Soul II Soul,
Harpers Bizarre,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Japan,
The Blackbyrds,
Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth, Reagan Youth.
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.