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 Syria and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide 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 1962 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Philadelphia 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 1968 at the first Bowie practice in a loft in Bromley.
I was working on the synthesizer 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 The Smoke to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
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 J.B.'s. All the underground hits.
All David McCallum tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Siglo XX record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Masters at Work record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an arpeggiator.
I hear that you and your band have sold your arpeggiator and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Angry Samoans,
Deepchord,
Index,
The Neon Judgement,
Inner City,
Public Enemy,
Robert Görl,
Harmonia,
Susan Cadogan,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
This Heat,
Agitation Free,
Guru Guru,
Ash Ra Tempel,
The Names,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Man Parrish,
The Index,
The Gap Band,
Stetsasonic,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Circle Jerks,
Das Ding,
Sonic Youth,
Joy Division,
Black Sheep,
Warsaw,
Fugazi,
Rhythm & Sound,
Dark Day,
Donny Hathaway,
Wasted Youth,
Vladislav Delay,
The Remains,
Altered Images,
Nils Olav,
Marshall Jefferson,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Jeff Lynne,
Duran Duran,
Minnie Riperton,
Chris & Cosey,
Nik Kershaw,
Yazoo,
The Modern Lovers,
Stereo Dub,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Banda Bassotti,
Country Joe & The Fish,
The Vogues,
Bluetip,
Brass Construction,
Black Bananas,
Arthur Verocai,
The Seeds,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Chris Corsano,
Judy Mowatt,
Interpol,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Audionom,
Make Up, Make Up, Make Up, Make Up.
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.