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 Equatorial Guinea and from Bremen.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Spokane and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 marimba sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Selector Dub Narcotic to the disco 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 Sound Behaviour. All the underground hits.
All Ultravox tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pierre Henry 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Intrusion record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a chamberlin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Marine Girls,
Bronski Beat,
The Velvet Underground,
Matthew Halsall,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Curtis Mayfield,
Drive Like Jehu,
Patti Smith,
It's A Beautiful Day,
The Flesh Eaters,
Gang Starr,
Scientists,
Simply Red,
Nation of Ulysses,
X-Ray Spex,
The Birthday Party,
The Fuzztones,
The Mummies,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The Residents,
Boredoms,
Terrestrial Tones,
Siglo XX,
Big Daddy Kane,
Pharoah Sanders,
Reagan Youth,
Accadde A,
Aaron Thompson,
Oblivians,
a-ha,
Fear,
Alton Ellis,
Qualms,
Stiv Bators,
John Cale,
Freddie Wadling,
Al Stewart,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Joe Finger,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Toni Rubio,
The Move,
Kerrie Biddell,
Lalo Schifrin,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Camron Feat. Memphis Bleek And Beenie Seigel,
Amazonics,
Crispian St. Peters,
Quantec,
The Martian,
Altered Images,
The Five Americans,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Invisible,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sugar Minott,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.