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 Lebanon and from Houston.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Can show in Cologne.
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 1967 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Sao Paulo 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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the oboe 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 Surgeon to the grime kids.
I played it at Trash.
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 Youth Brigade. All the underground hits.
All Kings Of Tomorrow tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bootsy's Rubber Band record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a snare and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a B.T. Express record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pet Shop Boys,
The Motions,
Whodini,
Robert Görl,
a-ha,
Sällskapet,
The Black Dice,
Roy Ayers,
Urselle,
The Names,
Maurizio,
Barclay James Harvest,
Animal Collective,
Yaz,
Drive Like Jehu,
Morten Harket,
Radiohead,
Porter Ricks,
The Offenders,
Brothers Johnson,
Marmalade,
Ultimate Spinach,
Crispy Ambulance,
Erasure,
Amon Düül II,
The Slits,
Vainqueur,
Fela Kuti,
Joey Negro,
Swell Maps,
Hardrive,
Marvin Gaye,
China Crisis,
Soul II Soul,
The Mummies,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tubeway Army,
The Dead C,
Black Pus,
Faraquet,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Monochrome Set,
the Bar-Kays,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
La Düsseldorf,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Dorothy Ashby,
Fear,
New Age Steppers,
Average White Band,
The Litter,
The Blackbyrds,
Blossom Toes,
the Normal,
Nico,
Aloha Tigers,
Barbara Tucker,
B.T. Express,
The Wake, The Wake, The Wake, The Wake.
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.