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 Hungary and from Delhi.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Halifax and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm 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 harpsichord 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 Maurizio to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Mars. All the underground hits.
All The New Christs tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a mellotron and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brand Nubian record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Simply Red,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Black Dice,
Black Pus,
The Detroit Cobras,
Danielle Patucci,
Cal Tjader,
Rites of Spring,
Porter Ricks,
Bizarre Inc.,
Eddi Front,
Buzzcocks,
Ultravox,
Angry Samoans,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Desert Stars,
Joy Division,
Cheater Slicks,
Scion,
Jandek,
Los Fastidios,
Gang Gang Dance,
Kurtis Blow,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Tubeway Army,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Tom Boy,
a-ha,
Ituana,
Sun City Girls,
Funkadelic,
Nik Kershaw,
The Seeds,
Henry Cow,
The Modern Lovers,
Delon & Dalcan,
the Association,
Vainqueur,
The Fortunes,
Kayak,
Ossler,
Maurizio,
The Knickerbockers,
Marvin Gaye,
Freddie Wadling,
Eli Mardock,
Cluster,
Camberwell Now,
Marmalade,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Eurythmics,
Joe Finger,
Sällskapet,
Ten City,
the Slits,
Idris Muhammad,
Kevin Saunderson,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Grey Daturas,
Jimmy McGriff,
Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks, Circle Jerks.
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.