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 Ivory Coast and from Winnipeg.
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 1961 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Houston and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the rhodes 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 Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Chris & Cosey. All the underground hits.
All Interpol tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Public Enemy record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Camberwell Now record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Grauzone,
Carl Craig,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Slits,
The Black Dice,
Suicide,
Skriet,
Reagan Youth,
Blancmange,
Quantec,
Dorothy Ashby,
Terrestrial Tones,
The Walker Brothers,
The Cowsills,
Sex Pistols,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Pulsallama,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
The Fuzztones,
Yusef Lateef,
the Soft Cell,
These Immortal Souls,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Howard Jones,
Prince Buster,
Black Moon,
Ronan,
Goldenarms,
Sixth Finger,
Alice Coltrane,
Desert Stars,
Cluster,
World's Most,
Livin' Joy,
Scion,
Hardrive,
Dave Gahan,
the Human League,
Ken Boothe,
Talk Talk,
X-102,
Pierre Henry,
Erykah Badu,
Judy Mowatt,
Neil Young,
Gichy Dan,
Fluxion,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Leonard Cohen,
Marmalade,
Severed Heads,
The Star Department,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Excepter,
Bauhaus,
Wire,
Babytalk,
Sällskapet,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Tres Demented,
Todd Terry,
Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage, Camouflage.
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.