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 Romania and from Toronto.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
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 1968 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Edmonton.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the oboe 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 Sexual Harrassment to the punk 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 The Last Poets. All the underground hits.
All Scientists tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fort Wilson Riot 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Minutemen record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a clarinet.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Traffic Nightmare,
The Doors,
Robert Hood,
Shoche,
Radiopuhelimet,
Marshall Jefferson,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Rufus Thomas,
Roy Ayers,
Graham Central Station,
Jacques Brel,
Das Ding,
Drive Like Jehu,
Camron Feat. Jay Z And Juelz,
the Normal,
Freddie Wadling,
Black Bananas,
Suburban Knight,
Ohio Players,
Theoretical Girls,
Babytalk,
Althea and Donna,
The Alarm Clocks,
Saccharine Trust,
Arab on Radar,
Television Personalities,
Kerrie Biddell,
Curtis Mayfield,
Notorious BIG live in Amsterdam,
Gerry Rafferty,
Ajijia Myrayebe,
Derrick Morgan,
Harry Pussy,
Average White Band,
The Barracudas,
Magma,
The Dave Clark Five,
Blancmange,
Newcleus,
Spandau Ballet,
a-ha,
Eddi Front,
The Offenders,
The Jesus and Mary Chain,
Sight & Sound,
Kevin Saunderson,
The United States of America,
Crime,
Kool Moe Dee,
Kenny Larkin,
Eric Copeland,
Faraquet,
Organ,
Drexciya,
Lower 48,
Avey Tare & Kría Brekkan,
Funky Four + One,
Idris Muhammad,
Robert Wyatt,
Quando Quango,
Crash Course in Science,
Fear, Fear, Fear, Fear.
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.