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 Zambia and from Stockholm.
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 1960 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Madrid.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1987 at the first Nirvana practice in a loft in Seattle.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen 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 AZ to the techno kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Kaleidoscope. All the underground hits.
All The Toasters tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Brand Nubian 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang Green record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cal Tjader,
Soft Machine,
The Slackers,
Soft Cell,
New Order,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Lalann,
Aswad,
Roy Ayers,
Donald Byrd,
Tubeway Army,
Swell Maps,
Fela Kuti,
the Fania All-Stars,
Lungfish,
Sonic Youth,
Groovy Waters,
Bobby Womack,
The Gap Band,
The Star Department,
Janne Schatter,
Boredoms,
Warsaw,
Cecil Taylor,
Harmonia,
Lebanon Hanover,
Dawn Penn,
Agitation Free,
Ponytail,
Tommy Roe,
Piero Umiliani,
The Walker Brothers,
Throbbing Gristle,
Black Moon,
The Electric Prunes,
Reagan Youth,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Symarip,
Jesper Dahlback,
Moss Icon,
Black Pus,
Juan Atkins,
Lyres,
Kayak,
Absolute Body Control,
Goldenarms,
Echospace,
Ash Ra Tempel,
the Association,
the Human League,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Modern Lovers,
ABC,
Quando Quango,
Nico,
Ossler,
Mark Hollis,
Faust,
Bizarre Inc.,
Bush Tetras,
Jeff Mills,
Prince Buster,
Rakim,
Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth, Wasted Youth.
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.