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 Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1973 at the first Television practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the theremin 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 Mark Hollis to the rap 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 Kerrie Biddell. All the underground hits.
All Barbara Tucker tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Shoche record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Amon Düül II record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Gang Starr,
Fad Gadget,
T. Rex,
Curtis Mayfield,
AZ,
Robert Wyatt,
Fela Kuti,
The Mummies,
John Coltrane,
Zapp,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Sixth Finger,
Minor Threat,
Gang Gang Dance,
Pantytec,
Roy Ayers,
Marshall Jefferson,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Donny Hathaway,
The Alarm Clocks,
Mars,
Outsiders,
Swell Maps,
These Immortal Souls,
Banda Bassotti,
Johnny Clarke,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
One Last Wish,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Delta 5,
Sexual Harrassment,
Pagans,
Electric Prunes,
X-102,
E-Dancer,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Crash Course in Science,
the Swans,
The Zeros,
Mandrill,
Index,
Visionaries,LMNO, T- Love & Iriscience,
Dave Gahan,
Livin' Joy,
X-Ray Spex,
Eddi Front,
Kas Product,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Moebius,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Motorama,
Robert Hood,
Nas,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Negative Approach,
Gichy Dan,
Wally Richardson,
Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw, Nik Kershaw.
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.