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 Philadelphia.
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 1961 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Edmonton and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 linndrum 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 Matthew Bourne to the rap 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 Absolute Body Control. All the underground hits.
All Wally Richardson tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The J.B.'s 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Yaz record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Modern Lovers,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Young Rascals,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gong,
The Divine Comedy,
Slick Rick,
A Certain Ratio,
B.T. Express,
The Searchers,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Suburban Knight,
Funky Four + One,
Can,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Accadde A,
Bad Manners,
The Five Americans,
Buzzcocks,
Matthew Bourne,
World's Most,
The Dave Clark Five,
the Sonics,
Trumans Water,
Wire,
Toni Rubio,
Ronan,
Delon & Dalcan,
Angry Samoans,
the Soft Cell,
the Normal,
Wally Richardson,
The Move,
Crispy Ambulance,
Niagra,
Joe Smooth,
Dorothy Ashby,
Sight & Sound,
Vainqueur,
Charles Mingus,
Pet Shop Boys,
Desert Stars,
Camouflage,
Ossler,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Grey Daturas,
Idris Muhammad,
Crooked Eye,
Bootsy Collins,
Excepter,
DJ Sneak,
Boz Scaggs,
Eric Copeland,
Cameo,
Rekid,
Eden Ahbez,
Talk Talk,
Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron, Gil Scott Heron.
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.