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 Zimbabwe and from Beijing.
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 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Seoul 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 1984 at the first Arcadia practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald 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 Martian to the dance 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 Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade. All the underground hits.
All Infiniti tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Con Funk Shun 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 '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a synthesizer and a marimba and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Frankie Knuckles record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
New Order,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five,
Marshall Jefferson,
Bang On A Can,
Ronnie Foster,
Warren Ellis,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Henry Cow,
Black Sheep,
Peter & Gordon,
Terrestrial Tones,
Rotary Connection,
The Golliwogs,
Mo-Dettes,
Dead Boys,
Procol Harum,
Urselle,
Andrew Ashong & Theo Parrish,
Judy Mowatt,
Accadde A,
Tears for Fears,
The Star Department,
Ludus,
The Victims,
Alphaville,
Red Lorry Yellow Lorry,
Desert Stars,
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds,
Nick Fraelich,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Invisible,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Tres Demented,
Eurythmics,
Bobby Byrd,
the Germs,
Big Daddy Kane,
Marcia Griffiths,
Whodini,
Outsiders,
Grauzone,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Seeds,
Bauhaus,
Flash Fearless,
John Cale,
Inner City,
Pharoah Sanders,
Roger Hodgson,
Youth Brigade,
Kayak,
Blake Baxter,
Avey Tare's Slasher Flicks,
The Fugs,
Sarah Menescal,
Faraquet,
The Searchers,
Fat Boys,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Lyres, Lyres, Lyres, Lyres.
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.