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 Andorra and from Bologna.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1966 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the guitar 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 Soulsonic Force to the crunk kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Mary Jane Girls. All the underground hits.
All The United States of America tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dave Gahan 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an organ and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a LL Cool J record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Index,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Aaron Thompson,
Quadrant,
James White and The Blacks,
Crash Course in Science,
Magma,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Electric Prunes,
China Crisis,
Junior Murvin,
Reuben Wilson,
K-Klass,
Hardrive,
The Last Poets,
Desert Stars,
Kerri Chandler,
Porter Ricks,
Camouflage,
Deakin,
The Human League,
Rekid,
Drexciya,
Davy DMX,
Traffic Nightmare,
Todd Terry,
Kas Product,
Laurel Aitken,
Pierre Henry,
Erasure,
The American Breed,
The Toasters,
Judy Mowatt,
Crispy Ambulance,
Black Sheep,
Charles Mingus,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Neon Judgement,
The Buckinghams,
Japan,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Johnny Osbourne,
John Lydon,
Josef K,
The Star Department,
Cheater Slicks,
Faraquet,
Gang Starr,
Letta Mbulu,
Arcadia,
Unrelated Segments,
Crooked Eye,
This Heat,
The Vogues,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Neu!,
Qualms,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Scratch Acid,
Scott Walker,
the Germs, the Germs, the Germs, the Germs.
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.