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 Dominican Republic and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Chic show in New York.
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 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Johannesburg and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 theremin 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 The Monks to the punk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Matthew Bourne. All the underground hits.
All Jeru the Damaja tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The Golliwogs record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Pussy Galore record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Sound,
The Misunderstood,
Arab on Radar,
Todd Rundgren,
Joyce Sims,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Barracudas,
The Alarm Clocks,
Freddie Wadling,
Slick Rick,
The Gun Club,
The Monks,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Sonny Sharrock,
Roy Ayers,
Boredoms,
CMW,
Graham Central Station,
Angels of Light & Akron/Family,
The Victims,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
The Fugs,
The Slackers,
Unwound,
Neil Young,
Ten City,
Basic Channel,
Essential Logic,
Whodini,
Scratch Acid,
Black Pus,
Mandrill,
Suicide,
The Shadows of Knight,
The Techniques,
Marcia Griffiths,
Matthew Halsall,
Kayak,
Dark Day,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Gastr Del Sol,
Technova,
China Crisis,
New Age Steppers,
John Foxx,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Talk Talk,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Gichy Dan,
Spandau Ballet,
The Slits,
Crash Course in Science,
Kaleidoscope,
The Move,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Man Parrish,
Massinfluence,
Can,
Erykah Badu,
Roxy Music,
Pet Shop Boys,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis, Alton Ellis.
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.