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 Mali and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Bronski Beat show in Brixton.
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 1966 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Beijing.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton 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 2001 at the first Tiga practice in a loft in Montreal.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Wasted Youth to the jazz 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 Amazonics. All the underground hits.
All The Angels of Light tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sällskapet record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock 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 clarinet and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Suicide record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a synthesizer.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Shoche,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Con Funk Shun,
Absolute Body Control,
Symarip,
David Bowie,
The Cure,
De La Soul & Jungle Brothers,
8 Eyed Spy,
Max Romeo,
Lou Reed & Metallica,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
D'Angelo,
Bootsy Collins,
Quantec,
Robert Wyatt,
Tres Demented,
Lyres,
Marmalade,
Ken Boothe,
The Fortunes,
Albert Ayler,
Scrapy,
Cybotron,
Terry Callier,
Lalann,
Gong,
The Searchers,
Chris & Cosey,
Gichy Dan,
Radiopuhelimet,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
The Moody Blues,
The Mojo Men,
Mission of Burma,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Ponytail,
The Wake,
The Martian,
The Detroit Cobras,
Big Daddy Kane,
Ultra Naté,
Newcleus,
The Grass Roots,
Crime,
Alison Limerick,
the Slits,
Maurizio,
Laurel Aitken,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
The Raincoats,
Slave,
Quadrant,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Funkadelic,
Unwound,
Schoolly D,
Ten City,
Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat, Deadbeat.
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.