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 Russia and from Portland.
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 1963 to 1971.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Lagos and Woodstock.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Tehran 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 mellotron 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 Juan Atkins 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 Wake. All the underground hits.
All Johnny Clarke tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every The J.B.'s 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 '60s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Sandy B record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Neil Young,
Rosa Yemen,
Wally Richardson,
Susan Cadogan,
Anthony Braxton,
Lower 48,
Harpers Bizarre,
Q65,
Gang Starr,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Stiv Bators,
Shoche,
Malaria!,
Lebanon Hanover,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Jeff Mills,
The Litter,
Magazine,
Gastr Del Sol,
The Offenders,
The Neon Judgement,
Pere Ubu,
Harry Pussy,
A Certain Ratio,
Art Ensemble Of Chicago,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Metal Thangz,
Deakin,
The Sisters of Mercy,
Echospace,
Bill Near,
Simply Red,
Prince Buster,
Suicide,
Los Fastidios,
E-Dancer,
Ultra Naté,
Kas Product,
The Durutti Column,
Todd Rundgren,
Lou Reed & John Cale,
Gregory Isaacs,
Cameo,
Babytalk,
Ronan,
Bobbi Humphrey,
The Names,
Adolescents,
Massinfluence,
Franke,
Country Teasers,
Technova,
Nirvana,
Pulsallama,
Johnny Clarke,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Eden Ahbez,
U.S. Maple,
Stetsasonic,
Slave, Slave, Slave, Slave.
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.