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 Maldives and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic 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 1964 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lyon 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 1976 at the first Buzzcocks practice in a loft in Bolton.
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 Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan to the funk kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All Dark Day tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog 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 '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Isaac Hayes record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Liliput,
Eurythmics,
Underground Resistance,
The Red Krayola,
Dual Sessions,
the Fania All-Stars,
Procol Harum,
Fad Gadget,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Animal Collective,
Surgeon,
Inner City,
Spandau Ballet,
ABBA,
Amon Düül,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Porter Ricks,
Hashim,
James White and The Blacks,
Black Moon,
Piero Umiliani,
Little Man,
Suburban Knight,
John Lydon,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Shuggie Otis,
The Skatalites,
Negative Approach,
Flamin' Groovies,
The Human League,
Terrestrial Tones,
Pylon,
Gang Gang Dance,
The Fire Engines,
Big Daddy Kane,
Motorama,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Marshall Jefferson,
Neu!,
Talk Talk,
The American Breed,
Radiopuhelimet,
Rapeman,
Marine Girls,
The Standells,
the Soft Cell,
The Monochrome Set,
Mad Mike,
Rod Modell,
The Gun Club,
The Saints,
Television Personalities,
Aloha Tigers,
Amazonics,
Matthew Bourne,
DJ Sneak,
X-Ray Spex,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Pantaleimon,
Theoretical Girls,
Sonny Sharrock,
Organ,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.