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 Micronesia and from Salvador.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1965 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lille 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Magazine to the punk 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 Roy Ayers. All the underground hits.
All The Fall tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Half Japanese record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Marmalade record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Interpol,
Zero Boys,
Avey Tare,
Pet Shop Boys,
Robert Hood,
Oblivians,
Tom Boy,
Sixth Finger,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Ohio Players,
Morten Harket,
Patti Smith,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Moleskins,
Grandmaster Flash,
Ice-T,
Fluxion,
Connie Case,
Procol Harum,
Aloha Tigers,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Talk Talk,
Bush Tetras,
The Leaves,
Davy DMX,
Sex Pistols,
Shuggie Otis,
Delon & Dalcan,
Inner City,
Lou Christie,
Minny Pops,
Saccharine Trust,
B.T. Express,
Terry Callier,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Michelle Simonal,
Sandy B,
Massinfluence,
Schoolly D,
The Velvet Underground,
Carl Craig,
The Sonics,
Howard Jones,
The Human League,
Black Pus,
Bobby Sherman,
Cal Tjader,
Marine Girls,
Accadde A,
This Heat,
Crash Course in Science,
Bootsy Collins,
The New Christs,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bang On A Can,
World's Most,
Althea and Donna,
Ponytail,
Flash Fearless,
Ornette Coleman,
Gang Starr,
Ossler, Ossler, Ossler, Ossler.
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.