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 Algeria and from Edmonton.
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 1967 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine 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 World's Most to the dance kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Matthew Halsall. All the underground hits.
All Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Moody Blues record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 chamberlin and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Blancmange record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a 808.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Mr. Review,
Index,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Jimmy McGriff,
Ralphi Rosario,
Eli Mardock,
The New Christs,
Sugar Minott,
Barrington Levy,
Josef K,
Black Sheep,
Jacob Miller,
Monks,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Porter Ricks,
the Human League,
Barry Ungar,
The J.B.'s,
The Electric Prunes,
Skarface,
Alice Coltrane,
Laurel Aitken,
The Move,
The Motions,
Alton Ellis,
Lebanon Hanover,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Frankie Knuckles,
Ossler,
Ohio Players,
Black Pus,
The Slits,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Seeds,
Stockholm Monsters,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Mars,
Jeff Lynne,
Derrick Morgan,
The Kinks,
Zapp,
U.S. Maple,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
The Gun Club,
The Dave Clark Five,
Yaz,
The Walker Brothers,
Blancmange,
Warsaw,
CMW,
Heaven 17,
Lee Hazlewood,
Gabor Szabo,
Nik Kershaw,
Neu!,
Young Marble Giants,
Royal Trux,
Dave Gahan,
Sound Behaviour,
Radiohead,
Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare, Traffic Nightmare.
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.