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 Comoros and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Sao Paulo and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 linndrum sounds with much patience.
I was there when Holger Czukay 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 Tim Buckley to the disco kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Dead Boys. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Star Department record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 harpsichord and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Curtis Mayfield record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your oboe and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an oboe.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grandmaster Flash,
Soul II Soul,
Barry Ungar,
Prince Buster,
Crooked Eye,
The Mojo Men,
Ken Boothe,
KRS-One,
Pylon,
Godley & Creme,
Country Teasers,
The Stooges,
Cal Tjader,
Roger Hodgson,
Q and Not U,
Guru Guru,
MDC,
Kerri Chandler,
Johnny Osbourne,
Yellowson,
Camouflage,
Radiohead,
Traffic Nightmare,
Easy Going,
Sixth Finger,
The Residents,
Section 25,
K-Klass,
Public Enemy,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Whodini,
David Axelrod,
X-102,
Juan Atkins,
New York Dolls,
OOIOO,
The Walker Brothers,
Carl Craig,
Glambeats Corp.,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Visage,
The Dirtbombs,
Lalo Schifrin,
Big Daddy Kane,
Mo-Dettes,
Byron Stingily,
Lakeside,
Kurtis Blow,
Echospace,
Intrusion,
In Retrospect,
The Toasters,
The Flesh Eaters,
The Black Dice,
Scion,
AZ,
Gong,
Ralphi Rosario,
Fluxion,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Bobby Hutcherson,
E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer, E-Dancer.
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.