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 Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
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 1969 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Woodstock and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the spring reverb 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 Bronski Beat to the techno 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 Cybotron. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Sun Ra record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal punk 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 synthesizer and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Brick record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Make Up,
Marine Girls,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Hardrive,
Andrew Hill,
Mark Hollis,
Wolf Eyes,
Lungfish,
The Moleskins,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Glenn Branca,
Sex Pistols,
Tears for Fears,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
One Last Wish,
The Royal Family And The Poor,
Leonard Cohen,
Peter and Kerry,
Tres Demented,
DJ Style,
Ultra Naté,
Zero Boys,
Joyce Sims,
Arab on Radar,
The Mummies,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
The Blackbyrds,
The Dead C,
The Shadows of Knight,
Isaac Hayes,
Lower 48,
The Pretty Things,
Tim Buckley,
The Flesh Eaters,
Kas Product,
Camouflage,
Lindisfarne,
Gerry Rafferty,
The Cure,
Todd Terry,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fad Gadget,
Guru Guru,
The Birthday Party,
Pussy Galore,
Unwound,
Q and Not U,
Procol Harum,
Nation of Ulysses,
Black Bananas,
Can,
Intrusion,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Aloha Tigers,
the Slits,
Scion,
Siglo XX,
Brothers Johnson,
Davy DMX,
The Red Krayola,
Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff, Jimmy McGriff.
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.