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 Guinea and from Houston.
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 1961 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Seoul and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi 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 1980 at the first Cybotron practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the chamberlin sounds with much patience.
I was there when Nile Rodgers 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 Notorious Big And Bone Thugs to the electroclash 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 Alison Limerick. All the underground hits.
All Joey Negro tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Y Pants record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grunge hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Busters record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a clarinet.
I hear that you and your band have sold your clarinet and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Visage,
Avey Tare,
Sun City Girls,
Radiopuhelimet,
Quando Quango,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Deepchord,
Eric Copeland,
Fad Gadget,
Judy Mowatt,
Excepter,
Nation of Ulysses,
The Blues Magoos,
New Order,
The Searchers,
Don Cherry,
Hardrive,
Roy Ayers,
Joey Negro,
Kurtis Blow,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Erykah Badu,
Minnie Riperton,
Hasil Adkins,
Sexual Harrassment,
Brass Construction,
ABBA,
Curtis Mayfield,
Frankie Knuckles,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
The Remains,
Fatback Band,
Pussy Galore,
Kayak,
Quadrant,
Schoolly D,
Sister Nancy,
Parry Music,
Gerry Rafferty,
Qualms,
Marmalade,
Tres Demented,
Scratch Acid,
Robert Görl,
Los Fastidios,
Warsaw,
Bush Tetras,
Tommy Roe,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Jawbox,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Scrapy,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
John Cale,
Subhumans,
Wings,
Talk Talk,
L. Decosne,
Television Personalities,
Silicon Teens,
Minor Threat,
The Monks,
The Invisible,
Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo, Gabor Szabo.
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.