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 Belgium and from Halifax.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1966 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane 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 1979 at the first Josef K practice in a loft in Edinburgh.
I was working on the oboe 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 DJ Style to the rock kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All Lou Reed & Metallica tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Divine Comedy 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Jerry Gold Smith record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
Eric B and Rakim,
Intrusion,
the Fania All-Stars,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The J.B.'s,
Henry Cow,
Derrick Morgan,
The Searchers,
Toni Rubio,
The Busters,
Marvin Gaye,
Tom Boy,
the Normal,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Robert Görl,
Circle Jerks,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Marcia Griffiths,
Morten Harket,
Terrestrial Tones,
Funky Four + One,
Talk Talk,
DJ Sneak,
John Cale,
Au Pairs,
Massinfluence,
Soft Machine,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Happenings,
Liliput,
John Coltrane,
Television,
Hasil Adkins,
Vainqueur,
X-101,
Bauhaus,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Electric Prunes,
Quando Quango,
F. McDonald,
Hot Snakes,
Pantytec,
Bobby Byrd,
Frankie Knuckles,
Eve St. Jones,
The Fuzztones,
Matthew Bourne,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Man Eating Sloth,
Dual Sessions,
The Knickerbockers,
Ornette Coleman,
Crispy Ambulance,
Black Flag,
Boredoms,
Ponytail,
Franke,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Letta Mbulu,
Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon, Beasts of Bourbon.
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.