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 Panama and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Shanghai and Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Big Daddy Kane to the rap kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Angry Samoans. All the underground hits.
All Lonnie Liston Smith tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Skarface record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a mellotron.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Swell Maps,
The Five Americans,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Slackers,
New York Dolls,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
The Monochrome Set,
Fear,
Reagan Youth,
Liliput,
Dead Boys,
Lebanon Hanover,
Tommy Roe,
Thompson Twins,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
the Bar-Kays,
Nils Olav,
Crispy Ambulance,
Marc Almond,
John Holt,
Ponytail,
Aural Exciters,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
In Retrospect,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Royal Trux,
Ornette Coleman,
L. Decosne,
Minny Pops,
Rites of Spring,
Lou Christie,
Brass Construction,
John Coltrane,
Cameo,
Schoolly D,
Joyce Sims,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
The Index,
Heaven 17,
Theoretical Girls,
the Human League,
The Dead C,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
The Blues Magoos,
the Soft Cell,
Stiv Bators,
Eden Ahbez,
Camouflage,
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap,
Al Stewart,
Gichy Dan,
Pantytec,
Todd Terry,
R.M.O.,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Carl Craig,
The Electric Prunes,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Kayak, Kayak, Kayak, Kayak.
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.