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 Indonesia and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 808 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 Swell Maps 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 Todd Terry. All the underground hits.
All Bob Dylan tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every 10cc 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 '80s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator 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 Blues Magoos,
Kurtis Blow,
The Real Kids,
Radio Birdman,
Con Funk Shun,
Eli Mardock,
Black Flag,
Los Fastidios,
Cybotron,
The Dead C,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Eden Ahbez,
Crooked Eye,
Shuggie Otis,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Robert Wyatt,
The Moleskins,
Masters at Work,
Amon Düül II,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
the Fania All-Stars,
Curtis Mayfield,
Fela Kuti,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
T. Rex,
Livin' Joy,
Reuben Wilson,
Brothers Johnson,
Spandau Ballet,
The Flesh Eaters,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Tom Boy,
Idris Muhammad,
Ultimate Spinach,
Theoretical Girls,
Peter and Kerry,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Ken Boothe,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Flash Fearless,
Popol Vuh,
Mad Mike,
The Golliwogs,
La Düsseldorf,
Jerry's Kids,
Marmalade,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
FM Einheit,
Groovy Waters,
China Crisis,
Urselle,
Mo-Dettes,
Suburban Knight,
The Alarm Clocks,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Techniques,
Harpers Bizarre,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Cluster,
Derrick May,
June of 44, June of 44, June of 44, June of 44.
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.