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 Benin and from Manila.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bremen and London.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Manchester 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 Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the techno kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Gang Gang Dance. All the underground hits.
All Pantaleimon tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every A Flock of Seagulls record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno 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 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Sound record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
The Grass Roots,
Magazine,
The Associates,
Sight & Sound,
The Knickerbockers,
Jerry's Kids,
Organ,
D'Angelo,
Massinfluence,
Maurizio,
World's Most,
Oneida,
The Index,
Visage,
The Modern Lovers,
Agitation Free,
Sandy B,
Pere Ubu,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Busters,
E-Dancer,
Rufus Thomas,
Wally Richardson,
Kurtis Blow,
The Remains,
Slick Rick,
Model 500,
Motorama,
Bootsy Collins,
Sonic Youth,
Arab on Radar,
OOIOO,
Second Layer,
Swans,
Animal Collective,
Hardrive,
Chrome,
Eddi Front,
48th St. Collective,
Kool G Rap & DJ Polo,
The Skatalites,
Howard Jones,
Black Flag,
Soul Sonic Force,
The Litter,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Rapeman,
Rakim,
The Victims,
The Cure,
The Moleskins,
Matthew Bourne,
T.S.O.L.,
Charles Mingus,
T. Rex,
Youth Brigade,
Man Eating Sloth,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Tremeloes,
Graham Central Station,
These Immortal Souls,
Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru, Guru Guru.
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.