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 Lesotho and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1978.
I was there at the first Visage show in London.
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 1969 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lyon and Glasgow.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bologna 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 1977 at the first Mistral practice in a loft in Amsterdam.
I was working on the organ sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 The Fortunes to the grunge 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 Thinking Fellers Union Local 282. All the underground hits.
All Kerri Chandler tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every De La Soul & Jungle Brothers 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mandrill record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Stetsasonic,
F. McDonald,
Swans,
Nik Kershaw,
Ponytail,
Skriet,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
K-Klass,
The Monochrome Set,
The Black Dice,
The Invisible,
Blake Baxter,
Patti Smith,
Symarip,
The Toasters,
Danielle Patucci,
Matthew Bourne,
Vladislav Delay,
Absolute Body Control,
Alison Limerick,
Slave,
The Gories,
Brick,
Nas,
Joy Division,
Toni Rubio,
Prince Buster,
Althea and Donna,
Ten City,
Icehouse,
Ralphi Rosario,
Scientists,
Susan Cadogan,
Josef K,
Lyres,
Qualms,
Rapeman,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Flipper,
Neu!,
Fad Gadget,
Joyce Sims,
Sly & The Family Stone,
Warsaw,
Dual Sessions,
The Busters,
Bob Dylan,
Sällskapet,
Smog,
Sonny Sharrock,
Lee Hazlewood,
Byron Stingily,
Eric Dolphy,
Beasts of Bourbon,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Neon Judgement,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Can,
T.S.O.L.,
Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T, Ice-T.
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.