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 St Lucia and from Beijing.
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 1968 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Taipei.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 June Days 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 Wally Richardson. All the underground hits.
All Pagans tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Modern Lovers 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a harpsichord and a theremin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cameo,
48th St. Collective,
Althea and Donna,
Neu!,
The New Christs,
Motorama,
Lucky Dragons,
Kas Product,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
The Neon Judgement,
The Trojans,
Ultimate Spinach,
Khruangbin,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Oneida,
Porter Ricks,
Zapp,
Symarip,
Barbara Tucker,
Qualms,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Franke,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
OOIOO,
the Bar-Kays,
Ice-T,
Gang Green,
The Techniques,
Y Pants,
Ronnie Foster,
The Pop Group,
Carl Craig,
Danielle Patucci,
Shoche,
Hoover,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Hashim,
David Bowie,
Reagan Youth,
The Human League,
The Associates,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Gil Scott Heron,
Suicide,
Skriet,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Radio Birdman,
Girls At Our Best!,
Stockholm Monsters,
June of 44,
Funky Four + One,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
La Düsseldorf,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Maurizio,
Make Up,
Duran Duran,
Connie Case,
Alphaville,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.