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 Qatar and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1964 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Columbus.
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 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 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 Stiv Bators to the grunge 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 The Angels of Light. All the underground hits.
All Minor Threat tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Skaos record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk 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 an oboe and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Selector Dub Narcotic record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your 808 and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a 808.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Rosa Yemen,
The Black Dice,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Eddi Front,
The Fortunes,
Von Mondo,
8 Eyed Spy,
Henry Cow,
Mission of Burma,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Royal Trux,
Lakeside,
Scion,
Maurizio,
The Invisible,
Todd Rundgren,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Eve St. Jones,
Whodini,
Roxette,
Gil Scott Heron,
Public Enemy,
The Selecter,
MC5,
Crash Course in Science,
Lou Reed,
Danielle Patucci,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Pet Shop Boys,
Thompson Twins,
F. McDonald,
Das Ding,
T.S.O.L.,
Niagra,
Darondo,
David Axelrod,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Bluetip,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sarah Menescal,
Fear,
the Slits,
Ronnie Foster,
Sixth Finger,
Judy Mowatt,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Count Five,
Susan Cadogan,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Davy DMX,
The Smiths,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
OOIOO,
Groovy Waters,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Litter,
The Moody Blues,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
The Standells, The Standells, The Standells, The Standells.
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.