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 Eritrea and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Stockholm and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Johannesburg 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 1971 at the first Selda practice in a loft in Istanbul.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer 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 Angry Samoans to the dance kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 The Grass Roots. All the underground hits.
All Captain Beefheart & His Magic Band tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Marc Almond 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 an oboe and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joy Division record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a snare.
I hear that you and your band have sold your snare and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Aaron Thompson,
LL Cool J,
Tears for Fears,
Arab on Radar,
Can,
X-101,
Roxy Music,
Pole,
Althea and Donna,
kango's stein massive,
Todd Terry,
Quando Quango,
KRS-One,
The Star Department,
Sun Ra,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Pus,
The Moleskins,
Ralphi Rosario,
Sparks,
Mission of Burma,
The Offenders,
The Gladiators,
Popol Vuh,
Isaac Hayes,
The Mojo Men,
Bobby Sherman,
Lakeside,
The Leaves,
Janne Schatter,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Blancmange,
Shoche,
Ice-T,
Faraquet,
The Velvet Underground,
The Fire Engines,
These Immortal Souls,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Electric Prunes,
Terrestrial Tones,
Motorama,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
The Black Dice,
Sight & Sound,
China Crisis,
Ultramagnetic MC's,
Underground Resistance,
The Blues Magoos,
B.T. Express,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Brand Nubian,
The Dave Clark Five,
Flamin' Groovies,
Hoover,
Visage,
Robert Hood,
The Detroit Cobras,
DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style, DJ Style.
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.