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 Tunisia and from Calgary.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1960 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Milan and Lyon.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school London 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 oboe 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 Main Source to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Nik Kershaw. All the underground hits.
All Don Cherry tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Second Layer record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a 808 and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Big Daddy Kane record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Ultramagnetic MC's,
T.S.O.L.,
Gabor Szabo,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Sexual Harrassment,
Scratch Acid,
The Techniques,
Nirvana,
Lee Hazlewood,
Slave,
Wolf Eyes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Eric B and Rakim,
ABC,
Animal Collective,
Schoolly D,
48th St. Collective,
Rakim,
The Flesh Eaters,
Subhumans,
Isaac Hayes,
Delon & Dalcan,
Main Source,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
ABBA,
Stockholm Monsters,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Los Fastidios,
The Music Machine,
Y Pants,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Desert Stars,
These Immortal Souls,
Nico,
Tommy Roe,
D'Angelo,
Thee Headcoats,
Heaven 17,
Ronnie Foster,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
B.T. Express,
Pierre Henry,
The Golliwogs,
Sight & Sound,
Gang Gang Dance,
Spandau Ballet,
The Stooges,
Glenn Branca,
Amon Düül,
Sugar Minott,
Soul Sonic Force,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
The Happenings,
Arab on Radar,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Von Mondo,
The Victims,
Dave Gahan,
Pylon, Pylon, Pylon, Pylon.
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.