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 Cuba and from Mumbai.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
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 1964 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Salvador and Delhi.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Bremen 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
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 David Axelrod to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Crocodile.
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 Von Mondo. All the underground hits.
All Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Monks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 synthesizer and a rhodes and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Wake record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a snare.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Fatback Band,
Procol Harum,
Swell Maps,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Duran Duran,
Sex Pistols,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Icehouse,
a-ha,
Roy Ayers,
Connie Case,
Bill Wells,
Colin Newman,
Can,
Drexciya,
Oblivians,
Average White Band,
Gang Gang Dance,
Whodini,
The Music Machine,
Thee Headcoats,
Byron Stingily,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Agitation Free,
8 Eyed Spy,
Delta 5,
A Flock of Seagulls,
DJ Style,
New York Dolls,
Black Moon,
The New Christs,
Lyres,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Tropical Tobacco,
Fela Kuti,
Reagan Youth,
Lalo Schifrin,
Andrew Hill,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Jawbox,
Stockholm Monsters,
Robert Wyatt,
Be Bop Deluxe,
R.M.O.,
Moss Icon,
The Red Krayola,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
E-Dancer,
Symarip,
June of 44,
Half Japanese,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Mandrill,
The Gories,
Tears for Fears,
Sarah Menescal,
Mary Jane Girls,
The Barracudas,
Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring, Rites of Spring.
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.