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 Kenya and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Sao Paulo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 theremin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 DNA to the crunk 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 The Cosmic Jokers. All the underground hits.
All Ultimate Spinach tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lonnie Liston Smith record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a snare and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a R.M.O. record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pulsallama,
Depeche Mode,
Glambeats Corp.,
Andrew Hill,
The Fuzztones,
Tres Demented,
Ronan,
Pylon,
Supertramp,
Warren Ellis,
Con Funk Shun,
Terrestrial Tones,
Bill Near,
Wings,
Thee Headcoats,
Young Marble Giants,
Bluetip,
Au Pairs,
Ultravox,
Nik Kershaw,
Mark Hollis,
Josef K,
Yaz,
Pierre Henry,
The Cure,
The Electric Prunes,
Crash Course in Science,
Moby Grape,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Essential Logic,
the Normal,
Fugazi,
The Seeds,
Crime,
Black Bananas,
Qualms,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tim Buckley,
Soulsonic Force,
Radiopuhelimet,
Sound Behaviour,
The Birthday Party,
Reagan Youth,
Pharoah Sanders,
Arab on Radar,
Howard Jones,
Grandmaster Flash,
Panda Bear,
Unwound,
Drexciya,
Pussy Galore,
Aswad,
Severed Heads,
Bauhaus,
Rekid,
the Swans,
Harmonia,
Gang of Four,
The Toasters,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls, Marine Girls.
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.