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 Brunei and from Sao Paulo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
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 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Cairo.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the mellotron 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 Man Eating Sloth to the funk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Big Daddy Kane. All the underground hits.
All Tropical Tobacco tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Detroit Cobras record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime 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 guitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Dead C record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Neon Judgement,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
a-ha,
Bobby Byrd,
Masters at Work,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Darondo,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Accadde A,
The Fire Engines,
Massinfluence,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Dual Sessions,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Tropical Tobacco,
Jacob Miller,
Sandy B,
Andrew Hill,
Gang Green,
Neil Young,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Trumans Water,
Mo-Dettes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Cameo,
Fad Gadget,
Rod Modell,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Ronan,
Erykah Badu,
Skarface,
Throbbing Gristle,
Joe Finger,
Babytalk,
Slave,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
The Seeds,
DJ Sneak,
Roy Ayers,
Bronski Beat,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Gun Club,
Tubeway Army,
Minnie Riperton,
Amon Düül,
Black Sheep,
Nils Olav,
H. Thieme,
Hasil Adkins,
Neu!,
Bad Manners,
Kerrie Biddell,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Fear,
The Golliwogs,
The Stooges,
Sällskapet,
Kayak,
Davy DMX,
The Kinks,
Aswad, Aswad, Aswad, Aswad.
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.