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 Kosovo and from London.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
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 1966 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lille and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid 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 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie 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 E-Dancer to the rock 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 Mr. Review. All the underground hits.
All Röyhkä ja Rättö ja Lehtisalo tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every the Normal record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a clarinet and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Malaria! record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Spandau Ballet,
The Dirtbombs,
X-102,
New Age Steppers,
The Cosmic Jokers,
Interpol,
Von Mondo,
Symarip,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Agitation Free,
Eddi Front,
Section 25,
Pagans,
Lalo Schifrin,
Loose Ends,
Skriet,
Nik Kershaw,
Television Personalities,
Cameo,
Aswad,
The Slits,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Sight & Sound,
Piero Umiliani,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
London Community Gospel Choir,
Metal Thangz,
John Cale,
the Association,
Magma,
The Sound,
Malaria!,
The Buckinghams,
John Foxx,
H. Thieme,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Tropical Tobacco,
Donald Byrd,
the Swans,
Ronnie Foster,
Hoover,
Swell Maps,
Banda Bassotti,
Roy Ayers,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Beau Brummels,
Alphaville,
Swans,
Sun Ra,
Connie Case,
Gabor Szabo,
Frankie Knuckles,
The Red Krayola,
The Zeros,
48th St. Collective,
Sarah Menescal,
Panda Bear,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Sun City Girls,
Accadde A,
Basic Channel, Basic Channel, Basic Channel, Basic Channel.
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.