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 Cameroon and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1968.
I was there at the first Bowie show in Bromley.
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 Johannesburg and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Salvador 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 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 The Birthday Party to the rap 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 The Martian. All the underground hits.
All Guru Guru tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tears for Fears record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance 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 clarinet and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Fugazi 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?
Malaria!,
Nik Kershaw,
Slick Rick,
Camberwell Now,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Can,
Jandek,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eric Dolphy,
Joy Division,
LL Cool J,
June of 44,
The Angels of Light,
Depeche Mode,
Newcleus,
Lakeside,
Alphaville,
D'Angelo,
Bad Manners,
A Certain Ratio,
Marshall Jefferson,
Sällskapet,
Aaron Thompson,
Ronan,
Donald Byrd,
Terror Squad Feat. Camron,
Cybotron,
Thee Headcoats,
Amon Düül II,
The Associates,
Tom Boy,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Leaves,
Gil Scott Heron,
Pantaleimon,
Super Lover Cee & Casanova Rud,
Animal Collective,
Shoche,
Echo & the Bunnymen,
Chrome,
Television Personalities,
Nas,
Isaac Hayes,
Jimmy McGriff,
The Five Americans,
Crash Course in Science,
Glenn Branca,
The Gun Club,
Rosa Yemen,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Be Bop Deluxe,
Chris & Cosey,
Neil Young,
Bobby Womack,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Byron Stingily,
Gang Starr,
Country Teasers,
Glambeats Corp.,
Fifty Foot Hose,
Popol Vuh,
Justin Hinds & The Dominoes,
Piero Umiliani,
Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl, Robert Görl.
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.