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 Gabon and from Taipei.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia 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 1964 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Paris.
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 at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the guitar 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 Jesper Dahlbäck to the jazz kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
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 Radio Birdman. All the underground hits.
All Warsaw tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a T. Rex record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought an organ.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Easy Going,
Dead Boys,
Amazonics,
F. McDonald,
The Electric Prunes,
A Certain Ratio,
Soulsonic Force,
Roy Ayers,
Warren Ellis,
Sex Pistols,
Jimmy McGriff,
Marvin Gaye,
The Grass Roots,
Tommy Roe,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Clear Light,
Sticky Fingaz feat. Raekwon,
Dark Day,
Sister Nancy,
X-Ray Spex,
Circle Jerks,
Graham Central Station,
The Monks,
Vainqueur,
La Düsseldorf,
Fugazi,
Brand Nubian,
Marc Almond,
The Stooges,
Lungfish,
The United States of America,
Grauzone,
Blancmange,
Cabaret Voltaire,
Swell Maps,
DJ Style,
Blossom Toes,
This Heat,
Fela Kuti,
David Bowie,
Alton Ellis,
Model 500,
John Coltrane,
Kevin Saunderson,
Von Mondo,
Qualms,
The Gladiators,
Joey Negro,
R.M.O.,
The Vogues,
Cal Tjader,
Donny Hathaway,
Prince Buster,
The Dirtbombs,
Icehouse,
Blake Baxter,
Suicide,
Eric B and Rakim,
Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum, Procol Harum.
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.