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 Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Josef K show in Edinburgh.
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 1967 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and Houston.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 marimba 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 Sex Pistols to the rap 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 Infiniti. All the underground hits.
All The Monks tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Angry Samoans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a theremin and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Interpol record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Suburban Knight,
John Coltrane,
Parry Music,
Pagans,
The Black Dice,
Bootsy Collins,
The Flesh Eaters,
Anakelly,
UT,
The Star Department,
Scratch Acid,
Bauhaus,
Outsiders,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Marcia Griffiths,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
June of 44,
David Bowie,
Kerri Chandler,
The Barracudas,
Rekid,
Cal Tjader,
T. Rex,
Wings,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Magma,
Jimmy McGriff,
the Swans,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Glambeats Corp.,
Gil Scott Heron,
Sun Ra,
Nico,
The Angels of Light,
Easy Going,
Matthew Halsall,
Lou Christie,
Joy Division,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
The Happenings,
Negative Approach,
The Misunderstood,
The Skatalites,
Niagra,
James White and The Blacks,
Alphaville,
Sandy B,
Japan,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Public Enemy,
Nas,
Marc Almond,
Organ,
Sixth Finger,
Supertramp,
Scrapy,
Visage,
Shoche,
Prince Buster,
The Shadows of Knight,
Bobby Byrd,
Juan Atkins,
Technova,
Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force, Soul Sonic Force.
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.