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 Bangladesh and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971.
I was there at the first Selda show in Istanbul.
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 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bremen.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Shanghai 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 1976 at the first Chic practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the harpsichord 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 Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds to the funk kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
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 Althea and Donna. All the underground hits.
All Skarface tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Royal Trux 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 '90s.
I hear you're buying a linndrum and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a AZ 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?
Arthur Verocai,
Bronski Beat,
Connie Case,
Terrestrial Tones,
Mission of Burma,
Brothers Johnson,
Marvin Gaye,
Wire,
Sällskapet,
This Heat,
Camberwell Now,
Alphaville,
B.T. Express,
Easy Going,
Unwound,
Bizarre Inc.,
Major Organ And The Adding Machine,
Frankie Knuckles,
Smog,
Monks,
Amon Düül II,
Interpol,
The Gladiators,
Nas,
Eden Ahbez,
Alice Coltrane,
Stetsasonic,
Livin' Joy,
Shuggie Otis,
Lucky Dragons,
Porter Ricks,
Faraquet,
Todd Terry,
Rapeman,
Robert Hood,
Thinking Fellers Union Local 282,
Nico,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Rekid,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Piero Umiliani,
Matthew Bourne,
Pagans,
The Velvet Underground,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Jeff Lynne,
Mad Mike,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Fugazi,
Jesper Dahlbäck,
Bootsy Collins,
Eric Copeland,
Lightning Bolt,
Johnny Clarke,
Zapp,
Soulsonic Force,
Animal Collective,
Roxy Music,
Prince Buster,
Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears, Tears for Fears.
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.