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 Paris.
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 1960 to 1970.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Seoul.
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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare 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 Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to the electroclash 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 The Saints. All the underground hits.
All Von Mondo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Judy Mowatt record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a June of 44 record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Public Enemy,
Pierre Henry,
Nico,
a-ha,
Sugar Minott,
Eurythmics,
Ituana,
The Invisible,
Accadde A,
Malaria!,
Mantronix,
Brick,
Infiniti,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Victims,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Misunderstood,
Aaron Thompson,
China Crisis,
Barrington Levy,
Soft Machine,
Can,
Scientists,
Subhumans,
Brothers Johnson,
F. McDonald,
Davy DMX,
the Slits,
Brand Nubian,
Donny Hathaway,
Goldenarms,
Rod Modell,
Warren Ellis,
Buzzcocks,
Crispy Ambulance,
Pagans,
H. Thieme,
Marshall Jefferson,
Mark Hollis,
48th St. Collective,
Second Layer,
Ultra Naté,
Franke,
Faraquet,
Robert Görl,
Sam Rivers,
Rufus Thomas,
The Sonics,
Don Cherry,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Neil Young,
Scratch Acid,
Simply Red,
The Index,
The Cramps,
The Dirtbombs,
The Offenders,
Bobby Byrd,
The Birthday Party,
A Certain Ratio,
Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes, Electric Prunes.
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.