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 Tonga and from Madrid.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Manila.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Glasgow 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 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 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 Teenage Jesus and the Jerks to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
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 Blake Baxter. All the underground hits.
All Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Gerry Rafferty record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 808 and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobbi Humphrey record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a linndrum.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sandy B,
the Swans,
The Standells,
The Birthday Party,
Scrapy,
Excepter,
The Dave Clark Five,
Aural Exciters,
Frankie Knuckles,
Jeru the Damaja,
Scientists,
Eddi Front,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
UT,
June Days,
Au Pairs,
The Wake,
Talk Talk,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Drexciya,
Dead Boys,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Q65,
Wire,
Infiniti,
Pierre Henry,
Michelle Simonal,
The Last Poets,
The Grass Roots,
John Lydon,
Vainqueur,
Jacob Miller,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Spandau Ballet,
Maurizio,
Darondo,
Electric Prunes,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Curtis Mayfield,
PIL,
Joensuu 1685,
KRS-One,
Alice Coltrane,
Nils Olav,
Jesper Dahlback,
N.O.R.E. Featuring Pharrell,
Grauzone,
Rhythm & Sound,
Soulsonic Force,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Con Funk Shun,
The Pop Group,
cv313,
Dave Gahan,
Essential Logic,
Judy Mowatt,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Duran Duran,
Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier, Terry Callier.
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.