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 Jordan and from Johannesburg.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Woodstock 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 1976 at the first Wire practice in a loft in Watford.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 Sonics to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
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 Crooked Eye. All the underground hits.
All De La Soul & Jungle Brothers tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Television record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco 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 theremin and a chamberlin and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Erykah Badu record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
June Days,
Sly & The Family Stone,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
The Move,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Evens,
Rakim,
Alice Coltrane,
Japan,
Toni Rubio,
Davy DMX,
Black Sheep,
Television Personalities,
Animal Collective,
Todd Rundgren,
Pussy Galore,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
Dawn Penn,
Negative Approach,
Pharoah Sanders,
Fad Gadget,
Lakeside,
Arcadia,
This Heat,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Cameo,
Severed Heads,
Boogie Down Productions,
The Smoke,
Brothers Johnson,
Sällskapet,
Slave,
Index,
June of 44,
U.S. Maple,
Lungfish,
Arthur Verocai,
The Monks,
Loose Ends,
the Soft Cell,
Hasil Adkins,
Average White Band,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Maurizio,
Jeff Lynne,
Chrome,
Fear,
Marvin Gaye,
Vainqueur,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
The Litter,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Godley & Creme,
Wolf Eyes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Thompson Twins,
Kool Moe Dee,
Adolescents,
Bobby Hutcherson,
The Beau Brummels,
Massinfluence,
Jeru the Damaja,
Reuben Wilson,
Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon, Surgeon.
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.