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 Maldives and from Delhi.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1963 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Manchester.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the oboe sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 K-Klass to the funk 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 Drexciya. All the underground hits.
All the Slits tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Average White Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rap hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Susan Cadogan record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo,
Bill Near,
Q and Not U,
Kenny Larkin,
Sun Ra,
Yusef Lateef,
Rowland S Howard / Lydia Lunch,
Joey Negro,
Whodini,
Monks,
the Germs,
The Shadows of Knight,
Scan 7,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Shuggie Otis,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Little Man,
ABBA,
The Monochrome Set,
Curtis Mayfield,
Dorothy Ashby,
Thompson Twins,
Alison Limerick,
Robert Hood,
The Toasters,
The Flesh Eaters,
Crispian St. Peters,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Blossom Toes,
The Slits,
Circle Jerks,
June Days,
Hasil Adkins,
Marc Almond,
Charles Mingus,
Guru Guru,
H. Thieme,
Nik Kershaw,
Spandau Ballet,
Wally Richardson,
The American Breed,
Das Ding,
The Standells,
Yaz,
Pantaleimon,
The Dirtbombs,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Symarip,
Gastr Del Sol,
Kaleidoscope,
The Doobie Brothers,
Arthur Verocai,
Black Pus,
the Swans,
Adolescents,
Aaron Thompson,
The Alarm Clocks,
Motorama,
Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light, Clear Light.
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.