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 Senegal and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television 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 1965 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Milan.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Lagos 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the arpeggiator 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 Toasters 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 The Doobie Brothers. All the underground hits.
All Con Funk Shun tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mo-Dettes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz 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 linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gang of Four record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Blancmange,
X-102,
Suburban Knight,
Chris Corsano,
The Mojo Men,
John Cale,
Hardrive,
Anthony Braxton,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Qualms,
The Monochrome Set,
Mo-Dettes,
The Kinks,
Saccharine Trust,
These Immortal Souls,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Evens,
Ituana,
Todd Terry,
Anakelly,
Reuben Wilson,
Tres Demented,
Suicide,
The Neon Judgement,
Fugazi,
Derrick May,
Matthew Bourne,
The Misunderstood,
Eli Mardock,
Fela Kuti,
Subhumans,
DJ Style,
Magma,
The Sound,
Robert Wyatt,
Zero Boys,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Organ,
Iggy Pop,
The Mighty Diamonds,
Wings,
Japan,
Scientists,
Shuggie Otis,
Vladislav Delay,
Lou Christie,
Joy Division,
Das Ding,
Graham Central Station,
John Lydon,
Harmonia,
Depeche Mode,
Liliput,
Barbara Tucker,
Ultra Naté,
Barrington Levy,
Juan Atkins,
X-Ray Spex,
Severed Heads,
Groovy Waters,
The Fire Engines,
Crispian St. Peters,
Erasure,
Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies, Flamin' Groovies.
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.