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 Uzbekistan and from Tehran.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Zapp show in Hamilton.
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 1964 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Paris and New York.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 chamberlin 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 Minny Pops to the funk kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
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 Tropical Tobacco. All the underground hits.
All the Fania All-Stars tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Spoonie Gee 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 '70s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a clarinet and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a James White and The Blacks record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
DNA,
Minutemen,
Steve Hackett,
The Flesh Eaters,
Matthew Bourne,
The Young Rascals,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Y Pants,
Black Sheep,
Big Daddy Kane,
Hardrive,
Ludus,
the Germs,
Dead Boys,
The Smoke,
The Alarm Clocks,
Tim Buckley,
The Birthday Party,
The Cure,
Organ,
Subhumans,
X-101,
Funkadelic,
Bill Wells,
Roy Ayers,
Chrome,
a-ha,
Mad Mike,
The Modern Lovers,
Neu!,
Carl Craig,
Severed Heads,
Ken Boothe,
Electric Prunes,
Neil Young,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Babytalk,
Whodini,
Sixth Finger,
Morten Harket,
The Fall,
Sonny Sharrock,
Erykah Badu,
Con Funk Shun,
Scientists,
Radio Birdman,
Alison Limerick,
Agent Orange,
Lou Christie,
Drexciya,
Livin' Joy,
Gerry Rafferty,
Metal Thangz,
Audionom,
Quando Quango,
The Buckinghams,
Marmalade,
Eric Copeland,
The Residents,
Liliput,
Half Japanese,
Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control, Absolute Body Control.
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.