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 Portugal and from Seoul.
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 1965 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Calgary and Tokyo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta 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 1983 at the first Art of Noise practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Mr. Review to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark. All the underground hits.
All Gabor Szabo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bronski Beat 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 chamberlin and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Deadbeat,
8 Eyed Spy,
Judy Mowatt,
Boz Scaggs,
The Count Five,
Roxy Music,
The Blues Magoos,
Gang of Four,
Jeru the Damaja,
Symarip,
The Misunderstood,
Malaria!,
New York Dolls,
Curtis Mayfield,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Howard Jones,
Sun City Girls,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Loose Ends,
The Last Poets,
Alice Coltrane,
Magma,
The Sonics,
JFA,
Tommy Roe,
Audionom,
Sparks,
Trumans Water,
Tom Boy,
Ronan,
Neil Young,
John Foxx,
ABC,
David Bowie,
Eric B and Rakim,
Absolute Body Control,
Camberwell Now,
Agent Orange,
Harmonia,
Nico,
Sonic Youth,
The Moody Blues,
Massinfluence,
The Kinks,
Ice-T,
Cal Tjader,
Royal Trux,
Erasure,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Qualms,
The American Breed,
Thompson Twins,
Moss Icon,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Smiths,
Minnie Riperton,
the Bar-Kays,
Clear Light,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Funky Four + One,
Cybotron,
The Stooges,
Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland, Eric Copeland.
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.