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 Guinea-Bissau and from Beijing.
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 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Portland and Seoul.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Calgary 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 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 Pole to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Circle Jerks. All the underground hits.
All Big Daddy Kane tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Lizzy Mercier Descloux 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 a theremin and an oboe and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joe Finger record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
R.M.O.,
Surgeon,
Deakin,
Ralphi Rosario,
Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth,
Dorothy Ashby,
Graham Central Station,
The Angels of Light,
The Offenders,
Letta Mbulu,
The Martian,
Lyres,
World's Most,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Detroit Cobras,
The Five Americans,
Theoretical Girls,
Marc Almond,
Brick,
John Coltrane,
Bush Tetras,
X-Ray Spex,
Brass Construction,
Ultra Naté,
June Days,
The Moody Blues,
Subhumans,
Ultravox,
Traffic Nightmare,
Fatback Band,
Joey Negro,
Wire,
Ken Boothe,
Jacques Brel,
Drive Like Jehu,
Donald Byrd,
X-102,
John Holt,
the Soft Cell,
The Invisible,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Infiniti,
Dave Gahan,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Angry Samoans,
Half Japanese,
Talk Talk,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Niagra,
Spoonie Gee,
Fluxion,
Judy Mowatt,
Arthur Verocai,
One Last Wish,
Black Moon,
Junior Murvin,
Mo-Dettes,
Cymande,
Jeff Lynne,
Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock, Sonny Sharrock.
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.