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 Kitts & Nevis and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Feelies show in Haledon.
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 1961 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Jakarta and Glasgow.
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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the 808 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 Gang Starr to the techno kids.
I played it at the 40 Watt.
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 Gary Puckett & The Union Gap. All the underground hits.
All The Standells tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Cheater Slicks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying an oboe and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Depeche Mode record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Pus,
Franke,
Kerri Chandler,
Pere Ubu,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Johnny Clarke,
10cc,
Inner City,
Main Source,
Avey Tare,
Peter and Kerry,
John Coltrane,
JFA,
The Shadows of Knight,
KRS-One,
Con Funk Shun,
Boogie Down Productions,
Lucky Dragons,
Bluetip,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Soft Cell,
Robert Hood,
Organ,
John Foxx,
Patti Smith,
Archie Shepp,
The Selecter,
Scott Walker,
R.M.O.,
Can,
Scientists,
The Trojans,
Oneida,
Dennis Brown,
Japan,
Visage,
Ultimate Spinach,
Eric B and Rakim,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Maleditus Sound,
Mark Hollis,
Rosa Yemen,
The Misunderstood,
Wolf Eyes,
The Evens,
Matthew Bourne,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Public Image Ltd.,
Suburban Knight,
Camberwell Now,
Soul II Soul,
Spandau Ballet,
DNA,
Roger Hodgson,
June of 44,
Gerry Rafferty,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Man Parrish,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
The Zeros,
The Alarm Clocks,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas, The Barracudas.
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.