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 Turkey and from Paris.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1964 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Mumbai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manila 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Royal Trux 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 The Moleskins. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Lou Reed & Metallica record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a theremin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tears for Fears,
Grauzone,
the Bar-Kays,
David Bowie,
One Last Wish,
Robert Wyatt,
Sly & The Family Stone,
DJ Sneak,
New Age Steppers,
The Techniques,
Mandrill,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Black Bananas,
Piero Umiliani,
Television,
Banda Bassotti,
Crime,
Procol Harum,
Nik Kershaw,
Swans,
Yusef Lateef,
Soft Machine,
Vainqueur,
Whodini,
Hasil Adkins,
Kevin Saunderson,
Depeche Mode,
the Human League,
Moby Grape,
Malaria!,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Johnny Clarke,
Bush Tetras,
Con Funk Shun,
Sällskapet,
In Retrospect,
Flash Fearless,
China Crisis,
Lightning Bolt,
The Golliwogs,
Rakim,
Motorama,
The Names,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Todd Terry,
Los Fastidios,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pierre Henry,
Wally Richardson,
The United States of America,
Main Source,
Eric Copeland,
The Residents,
Sound Behaviour,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Au Pairs,
Gang Starr,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Monochrome Set,
Bluetip,
Subhumans,
Roxette, Roxette, Roxette, Roxette.
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.