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 Madagascar and from Sao Paulo.
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 1965 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Manchester and Cairo.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Mexico City 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 1978 at the first Visage practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the marimba 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 Gang Starr to the jazz kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
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 Man Eating Sloth. All the underground hits.
All Black Sheep tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Eurythmics record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk 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 spring reverb and a sitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Flamin' Groovies record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Mandrill,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
R.M.O.,
Thee Headcoats,
Robert Görl,
Q and Not U,
Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson,
Ultra Naté,
Nils Olav,
Eric B and Rakim,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Intrusion,
Derrick Morgan,
Nick Fraelich,
Scion,
The Durutti Column,
John Lydon,
Carl Craig,
Reagan Youth,
La Düsseldorf,
The Electric Prunes,
X-101,
Hoover,
Crispian St. Peters,
Zero Boys,
Janne Schatter,
David Axelrod,
Aloha Tigers,
Boredoms,
Fela Kuti,
Pierre Henry,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Sunsets and Hearts,
The Kinks,
Tim Buckley,
Con Funk Shun,
Blake Baxter,
Flash Fearless,
The Skatalites,
Nik Kershaw,
Hasil Adkins,
Motorama,
Black Pus,
Easy Going,
The Fortunes,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Moss Icon,
Mr. Review,
Bill Near,
Neil Young & Crazy Horse,
Deepchord,
The Blackbyrds,
Bobby Sherman,
The Leaves,
Qualms,
Bob Dylan,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Visage,
Spoonie Gee,
John Cale,
Vladislav Delay,
H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme, H. Thieme.
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.